Don't Say A Word
by Tiggertoo
Summary: Co-written with sss979 and a continuation of sss979's series.  Everyone has secrets.  Some relationships are more secret than others.  Rated T for now.  That rating will may go up in future chapters.
1. Prolog

**This is a continuation of sss979's series, and is co-written with her. (It's not necessary to read the other books to understand this one, but you may miss some things.) Lucky for me sss979 lets me play with her guys, even though I tend to return them in much worse condition than when she let me borrow them. If it wasn't for sss979 I would never have written anything more involved then a grocery list. Thanks for showing me a whole new world of fun and letting my imagination run wild and unfettered through your universe.**

**We don't own the A-Team and alas there is no money involved. **

**Thanks to Quentillian for putting up with my flights of fancy and my uncontrollable urge to poke and prod. Thanks also to Mel and Kiki for countless hours of reading, research, time and invaluable input. You are a wonderful group and I owe you more then I can even express, let alone repay. **

**PROLOGUE**

**1968**

A few words of English was all it took to catch Murdock's ear. There wasn't a lot of English spoken on the streets of Nha Trang. At least, not in this area. The soldiers were all in the GI bars on the other side of town. Murdock had no interest in anything over there. Beer and booze and prostitutes were not his bag. Instead, he was enjoying the atmosphere of the city, so different from anything he'd ever experienced in the States. Beautiful, white-robed women. Happy, half-naked (or completely naked) children everywhere. Hard to believe that this was right smack in the middle of such a war-torn, devastated country.

Poking his head in through the open door where he'd heard the English coming from, he saw a woman at the front of what looked like a classroom. The student she was talking to was not older than fifteen. She herself probably wasn't too much older. Of course, it was difficult to tell with the Vietnamese. They were a different breed, and they aged differently. He hadn't been here very long, but he was observant enough to figure that much out. No telling just how old she was. Didn't really matter.

Pretty, petite, smiling – she was just as attractive as most of the other women he'd seen on the streets here in the flowing white gowns and pointy hats. Maybe even more since she, unlike the rest of them, was actually approachable. She was a teacher - at least, that was his best guess - and he was surehe'd heard English coming from this room. Why wouldn't she be enthusiastic about a chance to practice what she taught? But as her student hurried past, she turned away without even acknowledging his presence in the doorway.

Murdock was intrigued. "Hi."

She turned, and stared at him blankly. "_Toi co the giup ban_?"

"Ah…" Damn. He should've paid more attention to those language courses. He was good with languages. But there had been so much to learn, and so fast, while he was taking those helicopter conversion classes, he'd hardly had time to sleep, much less to devote himself to learning another language.

It took him a minute of fumbling through his limited vocabulary to make sense of her question. "Uh… I heard you teaching. You were using English. Do you speak English?"

She was prettier close up. There was something about her that just seemed clean and right. Something pure and beautiful and simply attractive. Different from the prostitutes, who were none of that. Something not sexual, just innocent and pretty. Even in spite of the lingering, scrutinizing gaze she gave him, she seemed so innocent.

It wasn't a hostile stare, but it wasn't exactly friendly either. She was wary of him. He smiled back. Wary was okay. He knew enough about the social norms here to pick up on some of them. He prided himself on being observant, and this was a very different culture. He probably shouldn't even be speaking to her. She definitely shouldn't be speaking to him. She had reason to be wary.

"Little English. What you want?"

He chuckled. "Well, in any case, I'm pretty sure it's more than my Vietnamese." He was careful not to return the scrutinizing look as he smiled at her. "Maybe you could help me. You're a teacher, right? Maybe you can help me with my Vietnamese."

She frowned deeply. "No Vietnamese. French. You go." She turned her back to him as she gathered the papers on her desk into a pile.

Murdock picked up one of the papers and she quickly snatched it back. "No!" she snapped at him.

The tone was one that a mother might use with a disobedient child. It made him smile as he reached behind his back and grabbed a different one off of the desk. While she went back to organizing, he folded quickly and efficiently. By the time she looked up again, he held an origami crane on his palm, offering it to her.

She stared at it for a long moment, then at him. He raised a brow, waiting for her to take it. Finally, hesitantly, she took it from his hand, staring at it as if it might bite her. Nevertheless, it was a success. And he'd already grabbed another piece of paper. This time, it became a tiger. She watched him, still wary, as he held it out to her as well. But this time she didn't hesitate as long to take it.

He smiled. "I would hate for the crane to get lonely."

She didn't understand him. He could tell that by the confusion on her face. Nevertheless, she answered with a quiet, "_Cam on_," which he guessed was probably "thank you." He repeated her, and she stared at him for a moment, bewildered.

"How do you say 'You're welcome'?"

She hesitated for a long moment. This time, she was staring at him as if _he _might bite her. He forced back his smile and waited for her answer. He didn't get one. But she didn't try to stop him as he grabbed another piece of paper and spent a little more time folding it. He set the completed frog on one of the students' desk and with an aim that spoke of years of practice he pushed the frog and made it jump across the gap. It landed neatly on the desk beside her.

This time, she raised her fingers to cover her slight, involuntary smile. But she quickly realized it and stood straighter. She set the tiger and the crane on the desk beside the frog and took a step back. "I go. Good bye."

She tried to gather the rest of the papers, but in her rush she dropped them all over the floor. Murdock immediately bent down to gather them, and they nearly collided. "Here, let me help you."

She gathered the papers, taking them right out of his hands. "No, no, no."

"_Toi giup_," he tried, sure he wasn't saying anything sensical at all. He was definitely going to make a point of learning this language…

She took the papers from his hands as fast as he could pick them up. "I do. I do."

She was flustered when she stood again, papers falling randomly. She was trying to catch them before they hit the floor, but was only marginally successful. He tried to keep a straight face, but the absurdity of two adults fighting over who got to pick up the paper was too much. He just had to laugh as most of papers fell back to the floor. "We're like the Three Stooges."

She stared at him blankly. Clearly her English was not good enough to catch references like that. She set the papers on the desk, knelt to pick up the rest, and put them all on the table to organize them again. She was definitely flustered.

Still laughing, Murdock shook his head and let her recompose herself. "_Cam on_," he said with a smile as she finally looked back at him. "For the laughter. I needed to laugh."

She tipped her head as she studied him, anxiously. After a long moment, she offered a very hesitant, "_Dung ngai_."

That had to be the "you're welcome" phrase he'd been searching for earlier. He tried repeating it, several times, trying to mimic her inflection. It seemed to amuse her, and she let him go for quite a while, mutilating the phrase more and more every time until she finally corrected him.

"_Dung ngai_," she said. "You welcome."

"_Dung ngai_," he repeated carefully. For good measure he threw in his most formal and respectful bow.

She laughed openly at that, amused by him, and rambled a stream of Vietnamese he understood none of. As he looked back up at her, she hid her smile. "You funny." It was almost mocking, but certainly not vicious. Her laugher was a sweet and unexpected sound that left him wanting to hear it again.

"Why yes, I am funny," he replied proudly. The smile never left his eyes. He pointed to himself and said, "HM Murdock." He looked at her questioningly, wishing he could remember the word for "name." But the way she eyed him, he knew she understood.

She didn't answer immediately. When she finally did, it was hesitant. "Lieu Thi Cai."

As Murdock repeated her carefully, it occurred to him that he had no idea which of the three names was her first name. _Eenie meenie minee mo…_ He was also certain that he saw a mischievous gleam in the girl's eye. He would almost suspect that she was enjoying all his floundering. "_Cam on_ Lieu."

She frowned. "Cai. You say Cai."

Ah. Good. He was gonna have to ask some of those ARVNs for tutoring lessons when he got back to base.

"You go now." She gestured him towards the door. "Go."

He grinned as he backed towards the door. "Alright, but I'll be back to see you soon, Cai."

Since he didn't drink or gamble or have any interest in the whores, he had found his down time to be unbearably boring, even when he came out to Nha Trang. Maybe she'd help to make that less of a problem. There was only one way to find out.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

**1985**

**DAY ONE – Thursday**

Kelly was stressed. That was putting it mildly. From where Murdock was sitting, watching her pace back and forth on the tile floor in the kitchen, it looked more like panic than mere stress. But she'd been like this all morning. He kept thinking that sooner or later, the adrenaline was going to run out, and she would calm down by necessity if not her own free will. So far, there was no sign of it.

"Okay, I got the turkey in, twenty minutes late but it should still be okay. Twenty minutes isn't that big of a deal, right? The tablecloth is in the dryer and the China is washed and – Oh God! Did I remember to peel the –" She pulled open the fridge and stared for a moment. "Yes. I did. Okay. There's the… That should be ready to go."

Murdock watched quietly, sitting on the kitchen counter. He didn't want to mess up the delicate display that was the kitchen table by touching it, much less sitting in one of the chairs. He couldn't help but be amused as she ran through one list after another. Things she had to do, things she'd already done, things she had to check to make sure she'd done.

Thanksgiving was apparently a giant family reunion in Kelly's world – a four day affair and a fairly stressful one, at that. Naturally, she was far more concerned about it than he was; family reunions were a new experience for him, but he was pretty confident in his ability to roll with the punches. When she'd extended the invitation to his team, he'd at first thought it for his benefit, and had questioned her. He'd been wrong. The more people who'd be there, she explained, the less tense it would be. He'd never really gotten a satisfactory explanation of that statement, but he took it for what it was worth.

Suddenly, she stopped and spun to face him with a wide-eyed look of horror.

"Oh my God!"

Startled by the panic in her voice, he tensed involuntarily. "What?"

"I forgot to vacuum the living room!"

He let out the breath he'd been holding, letting his own jolt of adrenaline to fade away as she bolted into the hallway and pulled open the closet door. "Oh no! Where's the vacuum! What did I do with it?"

"You left it in the spare bedroom," Murdock called over his shoulder, calmly.

The hall closet slammed shut and she was running again. "I've still got to feed the animals, too!"

Murdock slid off the counter, buried his hands in the pockets of his khakis, and followed her down the hall. She ran right into him as she stumbled out of the bedroom, the vacuum cord tangled around her arm. He put his arm up against the door frame to block her path.

"Kelly? Honey?"

"What?" The panic never left her eyes or her tone.

Murdock sighed and let his hand drop from the door frame. He used it to caress the side of her face gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Darlin', relax," he whispered. "Please? You're making _me _nervous."

She bit her lip, and her eyes filled with tears. He groaned internally. _Oh, please don't start crying._ He managed to keep the words from escaping. "No, Kelly, come on…" He took the cord from her hand, the vacuum cleaner from the other, and pushed both aside. Then he took a step towards her, wrapped both arms around her tightly, and pulled her close. She clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder as he stroked his hands up and down her back.

"Just relax," he whispered. "It can't really be that bad."

"You don't know my family."

"No… But I know you." He pulled back slightly and used one hand to tip her chin up so he could look her in the eye. "And I know you'll get through it just fine, no matter how bad it gets."

She forced a smile, and he returned it with one that was more genuine. "I'll vacuum," he said softly. "You get dressed and do whatever it is you need to do so that you're ready when they show up. Okay?"

She closed her eyes, and nodded.

He smirked slightly as he traced her lips lightly with the tip of his finger. "Unless you want me to help you get dressed?" he teased.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him again. This time, her smile was real. "We don't have time for that."

He moved his hands to her hips, pulling her against him. "Only takes five minutes…"

He actually elicited a laugh with that, and she sighed as she brought her hands up to his shoulders. She was blushing. "Later," she answered quietly. "I have too much stuff on my mind right now."

"Okay." He leaned down to whisper into her ear. "But you know I'm going to be thinking about it all evening." His hands slid back and cupped her ass as he kissed her thoroughly. Before he pulled away, her arms were wrapped tightly around him. He left a final, closed kiss on her forehead before releasing her. "If you change your mind…"

She laughed quietly, shaking her head. Without another word, he gathered the vacuum and its cord and backed out of the bedroom, leaving her to dress and get ready.

**1968**

Alan was standing at the mirror with a towel around his waist, a razor in his hand, and a white beard of shaving cream. With music blaring from the jeep parked nearby, Murdock couldn't help singing along with Martha and the Vandellas. One of the nice things about Nha Trang - there was music from the base radio station. Didn't get that out at the smaller camps, like the one where Murdock was stationed. It was good to hear. Fun. It further lightened his already happy mood.

"Nowhere to run to baby… nowhere to hide!"

Alan gave a snort of laughter, but didn't look at him. "Too bad the Army don't have a boys choir, huh?"

Several ways Murdock could hit that back. All of them would provoke a fight. He chose to ignore it altogether. He was in too good a mood to let his brother's baiting get to him.

"Got nowhere to run to baby… nowhere to hide!"

"Don't you got someplace to be, flyboy?" Alan demanded as Murdock leaned on the post beside him. "There's a war goin' on here, and you ain't even stationed on this base."

Murdock paused in his singing to smile at the unhappy man crowding close to the mirror. "Actually, I _do _have places to go. Things to see." He sighed wistfully as he stared off into the sky. "A world to conquer."

"Well, maybe you should get the –" He cut off as he nicked himself with the razor, and erupted into a long string of "shit, damn, fucking hell" and other such colorful words.

Murdock smirked at him. "Someone oughtta wash your mouth out with soap, Alan."

Alan growled at him. "Fuck you!"

He chuckled. Alan spun, eyes flashing, and Murdock stepped back immediately, forcing the laughter down as he raised his hands in surrender. He wasn't quite able to suppress the smile, and Alan was not appeased.

"I oughtta fuckin' –"

"Sorry I can't stay and enjoy this witty dialog," Murdock interrupted. He stepped away from the post and turned to face the mirror. "But really I just needed to borrow your comb for a second."

He reached to take it out of Alan's pocket, but Alan stepped back, out of his reach, with a threatening glare. He looked ready to use that razor in his hand as a weapon. Murdock hadn't expected to get the comb from him, and wasn't surprised when he didn't. His smile never fell.

The man on the other side of Alan was the one to step up and hold out his comb. "Here, use mine."

"Thanks, man."

Murdock reached past Alan to take it, smiling at the unfamiliar soldier. Alan grumbled. Murdock ignored him.

"HM Murdock," he greeted. He jerked his thumb towards Alan. "I'm this charming guy's much younger and better looking brother."

The man smiled, and offered a hand. "Trey Barker. Call me Speed." He looked at Alan. "I didn't know you had a brother."

"_Half _brother," Alan clarified.

Murdock's foot was tapping in time with the song on the radio as he ran the comb through his hair. "Guess who got the better half." He smirked, and watched Alan out of the corner of his eye just in case there was a threatening reaction. But Alan was ignoring him, finishing with his shave.

"Air Force?" Speed asked.

"Mmm hmm." Murdock handed the comb back. "How'd you guess?"

Speed smirked. "The 'flyboy' comment gave it away."

"Yup. That's me."

"Where are you stationed, if not here?"

"Ban me Thout. With the one and only 20th SOS."

Speed laughed. "Green Hornets? I did a few drops with them."

"Oh yeah?"

"LRRP before coming here. This is my second tour."

"Second tour." Murdock grinned. "Had so much fun the first time you wanted to go again?"

"You betcha."

Alan shoved past Speed, away from the conversation, and Speed watched him go, brows raised. "What's the matter with him?" He pointed back over his shoulder at Alan. "You'd almost think he's not happy to see you."

"You'd almost think," Murdock agreed. His tone was still light. He shrugged off the concern that was clearly written on Speed's face. "Don't worry about it. Alan's always a little... well… cranky with me."

Speed frowned. But Murdock was still smiling, his foot tapping out the 3/4 time of the newest song on the radio. "Hell, I'd be _thrilled _to have a brother out here," Speed said. "I got no one. Certainly no one who'd come to Nha Trang all the way from Ban Me Thout."

Murdock shrugged. "Yeah, well. Social graces were never one of his strong suits, if you catch my drift."

"How'd you get the time off, anyways? Just a weekend pass?"

"I have three lovely humid days and two even more humid nights, free and clear."

Speed shook his head a bit. "Damn. I can't imagine anyone wanting to come _here _on a weekend pass."

"Yeah, well, I've got a little... business here. Besides Alan. And he'll be fine, in a bit. And I'm sure I can come up with something fun I can do 'til then."

Speed chuckled. "I'm not even going to ask what you have in mind." He clapped Murdock's shoulder before backing away. "It's good to meet you, man. I'll see you around."

"See ya Speed, and thanks for the comb."

Speed waved over his shoulder as he turned away. Murdock smiled. Confident that his day was going to be great, Murdock found himself singing again as he headed to the motor pool to try and track down a ride across town. He hoped Cai would have her hair down. She was so pretty with her hair down…


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**1985**

Kelly had her hands full when the doorbell rang. She jumped, nearly dropping the pot of water on the floor. "Relax," Murdock said, rising from the kitchen chair. "I'll get it."

"It's too early to be family." She muttered as she set the pot on the stove and followed a few steps behind him to the door. "Has to be Stacie."

"Stacie?"

Kelly skirted around him, and he slowed, hanging back as she opened the door. The woman on the porch was young, well-dressed, and strikingly attractive. Murdock watched her with a practiced smile, hands in his pockets as she and Kelly hugged and exchanged greetings. "It's so good to see you…"

"I figured I'd come a little early," the redhead said. "Just in case you needed any help finishing up."

Kelly closed the door behind her and gestured as Murdock stepped forward and offered a hand. "Stacie, this is Murdock."

His smile broadened as he offered a hand. "Hi."

Stacie looked him up and down as she shook his hand with a delicate grip. There was no attempt at a smile. Instead, her look was wary and distrusting. "So you're him."

Murdock was almost taken aback by the open scrutiny, just shy of blatantly hostile. What kind of an introduction was that?

"Stacie has been my best friend since… forever," Kelly explained. She didn't even seem to notice the way Stacie was eyeing him.

"Nice to meet you," Murdock offered politely. Every instinct he had was screaming warnings at him. Hostility. Threat. He pushed all of that down, along with his shock at feeling it in the first place, and smiled at her.

"You're very tall," she said dryly.

He wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a compliment. In any case, she didn't give him a chance to respond before turning to Kelly.

"So who all is coming?"

Her tone changed so suddenly, Murdock found himself wondering if that hostility had even been there at all. Maybe he'd just been imagining it. Or reading too much into it. Kelly was stressed, after all. Maybe he was just expecting things to go wrong and people to be disapproving. Maybe there was nothing wrong after all. Hell, maybe it was just the meds sparking a touch of paranoia.

Kelly counted off on her fingers. "Mom and Dad, Margaret –"

"Randy?"

Kelly winced. "Yes."

Stacie groaned.

Murdock didn't. "You don't get along with Randy?"

Stacie shot him a disgusted look. "_Nobody _gets along with Randy."

It was all she offered. Except, of course, for another raking gaze. No, he hadn't been imagining that. She looked thoroughly disapproving, almost disgusted by him.

"It doesn't help that he's had a massive crush on her since we were about thirteen," Kelly offered.

Murdock raised a brow. "Why don't you just tell him you're seeing someone?" he suggested. "And that you're madly in love."

She scoffed, but didn't afford him an answer, turning back to Kelly instead. "Who else?"

So much for first impressions.

As Kelly named off aunts and uncles and cousins – some of whom were traveling great distances – Murdock's mind wandered. His attention returned abruptly at the mention of "Murdock's friends."

"Oh, really?" It sounded like a challenge. But then, so had everything Stacie had said to him so far. "Are they just coming for dinner? Or for the whole weekend?"

He smiled. "Not sure."

It was best not to give her anything more than what she actually pressed for. And besides, that wasn't really a lie. They hadn't really talked about just how long this would be a "team affair."

BA was in Georgia with family – by way of Chicago to pick up his mother. But Hannibal and Face had both agreed to come. With the necessary stipulation that if another guest happened to call the military police, she shouldn't take it personally when they slipped out the back door… and took Murdock with them. Given Kelly's concern (it bordered on paranoia) over Murdock's first impression on her family, they had to be clear on whether or not she _really _wanted to invite his fugitive friends. She'd insisted; they'd agreed.

"So what's left to be done?" Stacie asked as she headed into the kitchen, a step behind Kelly. "I came to help."

As they walked past him, he watched them go. They didn't need him under foot. He wandered out to the back porch and sat down on the steps, glancing up at the sky that was already starting to dim. Days were getting short as winter set in. His thoughts drifted as he breathed in the cool air, pulling his jacket a little tighter around him.

**1968**

It was hot, humid, and miserable outside. Murdock didn't mind it too much. It was the cold he couldn't stand. Heat had never bothered him. It wasn't _enjoyable _to be swimming in a pool of his own sweat, but shivering was worse.

Cai had a younger class today than usual - upper grade school. He was glad for it. Kids had a tendency to ask unfiltered questions. They were too young to think that staring was inappropriate behavior. They'd all _seen _the Americans, but so few had ever tried to _talk _to one. Kids were also really good for learning a foreign language; it was something they could be an expert on. They loved to teach - especially when they got to teach adults. And they thought his disastrous attempts at mimicry were hilarious.

He'd stood for almost 45 minutes at the doorway, waiting for her to finish, out of sight and out of mind for all the students. But as soon as she'd dismissed, they'd encircled him. He had been right in thinking it was going to be a great day. He wasn't sure what he enjoyed more – the laughter of the kids or the way that Cai was looking at him as she gathered her papers.

"Alright, alright I give up," he laughed, "but this is the last time I'm going to show you this."

Much to the amusement of the group, he tried to say something remotely like the same phrase in Vietnamese. Just by the laughter, he could tell he'd mutilated it horribly. A month of study in the language hadn't come anywhere near making him fluent. It was too easy to use English when he was talking to someone who spoke both. And too hard to get vocabulary from someone who didn't.

With a theatrical flourish, he pushed up his sleeves, reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. Holding it between his fingers for all the children to see, he smiled.

"[Nothing in my arm,]" made them all giggle, but he didn't know the word for sleeve. He held the coin up to the head of the boy closest to him and proceeded to make it disappear. More gleeful laughter, and clapping.

"[Wait,]" he said with a smile. "[Not finish.]"

He reached to the other side of the boy's head, and with a style that would make Houdini proud, pulled the coin from behind the boy's ear and gave it to him.

In the laughter and clapping that followed he looked at Cai. She was smiling, holding her hand up to cover it loosely with her fingers. She had certainly not encouraged him to come back, but as the kids clamored and clapped and rejoiced and laughed, she wasn't trying to get rid of him either. He smiled.

"Sorry guys, no more tricks. I'm broke." To emphasize the point, he moved to turn his pockets inside out. "Wait a second!" He feigned surprise as he clasped his hand around the contents of his pocket. "How did that get in there?"

Without looking at it, he walked towards Cai and opened his hand. Sitting in his palm was a miniature origami apple. "Since you're the teacher, this must be for you."

It had taken him hours to figure out the complicated folding. But the look of amazement on her face was worth every second.

"_Cam on_," she whispered as she took it from him.

"_Dung ngai_."

She glanced up at him again with a polite smile, and spoke in Vietnamese as she continued, but the only word he caught was "how." She must've seen the look of confusion on his face because she lifted the origami contraption as she waited for an answer. "How you do?"

He smiled. "A whole lot of folding and lots of free time," he said in English. Then he took in a deep breath, and tried the words he had been practicing in slow and careful Vietnamese. "[For my favorite teacher.]" When he didn't hear laughter he knew that either the kids had left or he had finally gotten the accent right.

She smiled. More words in the foreign language. "Study" and "Vietnamese" and "you". And somehow, at the end of it, she ended up staring at him, waiting for an answer to any one of a hundred different questions that those words could have amounted to.

Not sure what the question was, the answer was a going to have to be a guess. "Umm, yes. I've been studying." He pointed at her and asked, "[You help me?]" Giving her a smile he added, "Please? Pretty please? _Xin_?"

He clasped his hands together and gave her is best puppy dog eyes. She laughed, though whether it was the absurdity of the idea or the expression or the tone, he had no idea. As the laughter faded, it turned to a look of amusement. "No teach." She touched her fingertips to her chest. "I no English!"

He smiled. No way he could possibly tell her that her limited ability to communicate in his language didn't matter to him in the least. At this moment in time, there was nothing he wanted more than to spend time with her. "Well, then how 'bout you, _ban_," he pointed, "and me, _toi_, go for a walk, _di bo_."

Still giving her his best pleading face, he used his index and middle fingers to make a pair of legs. "_Di bo_?"

For a moment, she seemed skeptical, hesitant. She cast a lingering look at the papers stacked on the desk. "No."

But it wasn't firm. She was just going to take a little persuading. With a mischievous gleam in his eye, he dropped to his knees and placed his folded hands over his heart. Her eyes widened, and she immediately reached to pull him up to his feet, confused and horrified by the display.

He was undeterred. "Please put me out of my misery and go for a walk with me, please!" This time he added, "_Xin_?"

It wasn't until she had him back on his feet that she regained her composure and straightened her dress. He wasn't sure just how inappropriate his actions were, but didn't think it mattered too much. They were the only ones there, after all. And she was flustered enough to nod. "Okay. We go."

He counted that as a win, on all levels.

He stood next to her and offered his arm to her. Whether or not that was acceptable, he wasn't sure. But luck seemed to be running his way today. "Shall we?"

She didn't take his arm. Instead, she gathered the papers and shoved them into her bag before she walked to the door, a few steps ahead of him. Out on the street, she waited for him to pass before she turned and shut the door behind them. He stood in the hot street, waiting for her to turn back around. When she did, he smiled motioned with his hand for her to lead. "Where to Cai?"

She blinked, startled. He hardly noticed. Right now, he was instead noticing that she smelled like jasmine. The string of Vietnamese startled him out of his thoughts. It was too jumbled and complicated for him to make out any of it, but he knew immediately that he'd done something else wrong. He tried to figure out what he had or hadn't done, but came up blank. Not wanting to spend the rest of his rapidly dwindling free time stuck in communication limbo, he gave an exaggerated look of confusion, raised his hands palm up and shrugged. "_Gi_?"

She looked at him, irritated. "You go!" Her eyes were darting around the street, sure that they were attracting attention. "I no." She lowered her head, hiding beneath her hat. "You go."

Murdock nodded slowly. He was pretty sure he understood now. She was a respectable girl, and being seen with an American soldier could cause her some problems. The thought that she was willing to risk that to be with him gave him a thrill.

He nodded his understanding to her and began whistling as he strolled down the street towards the park by the beach. She followed, but not too close. To anyone who cared enough to really look, it was obvious that the two were together. But she made no effort to match his step as she walked with him down the street.

When he finally made to the park he carefully scouted for the right spot. He finally settled on a park bench overlooking the beach. Not wanted to call attention by looking back at her, he sat on the bench watching the ocean and the people on the beach. The sound of the water was calming as he waited to see what she would do next. He didn't have much longer until he would need to head back to the base and, ultimately, back to Ban Me Thout.

The smell of Jasmine let him know that she was close, on the bench but on the opposite side of it. He inhaled deeply and smiled as he waited for her to make a move. The people who came and went, walking past, had little interested in either of them. And after a few long moments, she finally broke the silence. "I sorry," she said quietly, barely a whisper. "It... bad for if..." She finished in Vietnamese, under her breath.

"It's okay, Cai," he answered with a smile. "I get it."

As they sat in companionable silence, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. There was something about her, in this place. Something intriguing. And something he really, _really _liked. It was safe, innocent. Comforting. He never wanted to leave.

"Why you come here, GI?" she finally asked, tipping her head as she studied him carefully. "There bar for you. Drink and woman. Why you come here?"  
>"'Cause the bars are full of drinks and women." He looked away. "But this beach has you."<p>

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her brow furrow. "I no bar woman. I no English! Why you come here?" She was irritated, but if he had to guess, it seemed more at her lack of ability to communicate than at him.

He stared at her for a moment and finally decided to go for the simplest route. "Because I like you." He paused. "[I like you.]"

She stared at him for a long moment. But the way her eyes changed, darkened, grew sadder, told him that she understood him perfectly. She turned her head and looked away. "I no like you."

He laughed out loud. "Yes, you do. Otherwise you wouldn't have even come here with me." He smiled at her. "And even if you don't, it doesn't change anything. [I like you.]"

She didn't look back at him. When she spoke again, he could barely hear her. "You GI." She paused for a long moment, then looked back up at him and spoke very clearly in a language she very clearly knew he did not understand no matter how precisely she spoke it. "_Chien si luon luon de lai._"

Murdock didn't know what that meant, but he made a note to find out. He wasn't sure what had cause the change in her tone but when he looked in her eyes he saw pain. He frowned. That had certainly not been his intention. "It's okay, Cai," he whispered. "I just wanna be here with you, that's all."

Cautiously, he moved his hand towards her. He wanted to touch her, to offer comfort, but he was afraid she would bolt like a scared animal. So he left his hand on the bench between them as he offered a slight, encouraging smile. "Your laugh makes me happy".

She regarded his hand out of the corner of her eye, but didn't look up at him again. He wasn't sure how much she understood, but something told him it was more than she let on. She let the silence linger for several long minutes before she sighed.

"You go," she said. "It late."

The sun was nowhere near the horizon yet. More likely, she was feeling the lack of English words. He wasn't half as uncomfortable as he probably should have been, but he wasn't going to push his luck. "My Grandma always said a gentleman never refuses a lady's request."

He stood up and looked at the water for a moment before turning to her. "You know Cai, I'll be back again."

She didn't answer. But before she could stop him, he took her hand and quickly placed a chaste kiss on the back of it before releasing it. "_Cam on ban_."

He didn't say another word before he turned and headed back towards the base.


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**1985**

A dog's whimper from nearby caught Murdock's attention. He glanced at the large pen on the side of Kelly's back porch where Homer was staring at him mournfully. He offered a sympathetic smile, but shook his head. "No can do, boy. Kelly will _kill _me if I get all dirty playin' with you."

A quiet yip, and Homer pawed at the chain link fence, just once. Murdock laughed. "Yeah, it's real sad. But when it comes to sharing your bed or hers, you understand why I'm not letting you out of there."

"Rocket, wait!"

A child's yell caught him off guard. Homer ran instantly to the other side of the pen and barked excitedly as a black lab shot into the backyard, followed at some distance by a ten-year-old boy barreling full speed ahead. "Rocket!"

"Let him go, Billy," a man's voice called. Murdock heard car doors shutting. "You'll never catch him before he hits that creek."

Billy stopped chasing the dog and sighed, shoulders rising and falling visibly. Murdock turned his attention briefly to Homer, who was still barking wildly. "Hush!" he ordered. He hated to do it; poor dog, locked up and watching as the lab ran past the tree line and into the woods.

The barking turned to whimpering yips, and Murdock glanced up again at the boy. "Hi," the kid greeted with a smile. "Who are you?"

"My name is Murdock," he answered with a matching grin as the kid came closer. "I'm your aunt Kelly's boyfriend. You're Billy, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"She told me about you." He grinned mischievously. "I remembered your name 'cause I got a dog named Billy. Same kind as Rocket."

"Really?" The kid's eyes brightened. "Did you bring him?"

Murdock chuckled. "No, he's at home. Aunt Kelly asked him not to come."

Murdock glanced up as a woman rounded the corner and paused as she saw him. As he turned to smile at her, she hesitated to approach until he held out a hand. "Hi. I'm Murdock."

She gave a slight, shy smile, lowering her eyes rather than looking at him. "Hi. Margaret." She sounded as timid as she looked.

"Kelly's sister, right?" He could vaguely see the family resemblance. "I've heard a lot about you."

She nodded, but didn't speak again. As Murdock was contemplating how to carry on a conversation with someone so shy she was almost mute, a man turned the corner behind her. His eyes locked on Murdock immediately and his posture straightened. It was just a flash of hostility, covered quickly over by a polite smile, but his shoulders remained back as he put a protective arm around Margaret's waist. She turned immediately into him, like a frightened child. All Murdock could do was stare. What in the hell…?

"Hi. I'm Andrew." The man's polite smile remained in place as he extended a hand. "You can call me Drew."

"Murdock."

Murdock's quick assessment of the newcomer stopped on the dog tags hanging around the man's neck. Military service. For some reason, that immediately put Murdock more at ease. It was something in common, a connection. Whether Drew was a vet or whether he was still in, it would make him easier to talk to.

"You're in the service?"

Margaret looked up, as if startled. As Drew chuckled quietly, she reached up and dropped his dog tags into his shirt. "Air Force."

Murdock smiled, trying to ignore the tension. "I was in the Air Force for about eight and a half years before I switched to Army."

The next question was a given. Why would he do a thing like that? It was the window into conversation, and familiarity, and the tension would ease after a few minutes of that.

But Drew didn't take the bait. "Well, I'm not sure if you've been warned or not," he said, "but you'd probably be much better off not mentioning that to anyone who doesn't already know."

Startled by the warning, Murdock opened his mouth to ask why. He didn't have a chance before the back door creaked open. "Margaret!"

Murdock glanced over his shoulder at Kelly, who was smiling tightly as she stepped down the few steps, letting the door clack closed behind her. She stopped in front of her sister and embraced her tightly. "It's been too long."

"It has."

Kelly turned next to her brother-in-law. "Drew, good to see you."

"You too."

He pulled Margaret close to him again just as soon as he pulled away from Kelly. If she thought there was anything odd about the way that Margaret seemed to be trying to disappear behind him, she didn't point it out in any way. Once greetings had been appropriately finished, the two newcomers wandered into the house, leaving Murdock and Kelly alone for a moment.

She didn't look any less stressed than she had before Stacie had arrived, but at least she didn't look any worse. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "I'll be fine."

He smiled as he stepped up closer to her, sliding his arms around her waist. "That's not what I asked, darlin'."

She gave a slight, forced smile. "Sorry. I'm trying."

"Stop trying so hard and just relax." He kissed her forehead lightly. "You shouldn't get so stressed out about it. Not like it's gonna go any smoother if you got yourself all tied up in knots."

She let out an audible sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder, loosely hugging her back. "I know."

"So, uh… Drew told me I need to be careful not to mention the service."

"Service?"

"Military."

She pulled away abruptly, her eyes wide. "Oh, God, no, please don't do that."

He chuckled at the response. He couldn't have gotten more of a reaction from her if he'd told her he was thinking of setting the house on fire. "Given that you're planning on having at least four vets in here, you probably should've warned me. Is there anything else I need to know?"

She pushed her hair back, glancing nervously into the house. "No. I'm sorry, I just didn't think…"

"It's okay." He turned her chin back until she met his eyes. "Just do me a favor."

"What?"

"Smile, will ya?" He nuzzled her gently, nose to nose. "You've got nothing to worry about."

She forced a smile, and he brushed the side of her face lightly before planting a quick kiss on her lips. Then he pulled away, leaving an arm around her waist as he led her back into the house.

**1968**

"No one ever smiles around here." Murdock turned, looking at the bunk next to him. He wasn't sure if Alan was passed out, sleeping, or awake and pretending to be asleep. "It's weird 'cause you guys got so many things you oughtta be smiling about. You got running water, and music, and pretty women, and good food right down the street."

"Gook food," Alan grumbled. Apparently he was awake. "Shit all tastes the same."

"You been eatin' at the wrong places cause the Pho Ga is good stuff. Better then the Pho Bo Tai. Tastes way different."

Alan gave a brief snort of acknowledgment, but nothing more. He was in a miserable mood, as usual. It was nothing new. Far as Murdock could tell, he had been born in foul mood. But he was talking, and that was something Murdock could work with.

"And if you go to the right place," he tried again, "you can get a pretty girl to serve it to you."

"Gook whores are _also_ all the same."

Murdock raised a brow at that. He knew for a fact that Alan and some of his Mike Force buddies had a reputation for raising hell in town. That included booze, drugs, and, of course, women. Murdock had heard some of the stories second hand at the club on base. If even half of those stories were true, then Alan had no problem enjoying the local "gook whores."

"I'm not talking about the whores," Murdock clarified. "Just a pretty girl. You don't have to shag her to appreciate that."

Alan sighed audibly. "I got no interest in some pretty little gook girl serving me their gook food. Not my kinda eye candy."

There was nothing patient or inviting about his tone, but Murdock didn't let it deter him. "You gotta learn to look on the bright side, Alan."

Alan sighed audibly as he turned and turned his back to Murdock. "Place is a fucking hell hole. There ain't no bright side. You're the only one who seems to not get that."

Murdock shrugged. "It's not the kinda place I'd like to retire to. But it could be worse."

"Doubt it."

Murdock rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand. "It's not like you're in it alone here."

He could hear the hopeful note in his voice. But it was something he figured that Alan would understand. This wasn't like growing up in west Texas. Back then it had just been them; no one else would ever have been able to understand what it had been like. But here, there were thousands of soldiers. They all knew; they understood. It was a common experience, a bond. He'd never thought it could be so real, so intense, until he'd felt it for himself in the academy. Singularity of thought, of purpose. There was something deep and meaningful about that bond, and it was even stronger here – in a place where they were the outsiders. Regardless of how Alan felt about him as an individual, there was no doubt in his mind that he understood that bond.

"No matter where you go you got other grunts just like you. And you can count on them."

"The fuck do you know about it, flyboy?" Alan mocked. "You get time off, you ain't anywhere _near _your unit and the people who'd 'understand' you."

Alan was looking to lash out, to remind Murdock that he was different and maybe even start a fight. But Murdock refused to rise to the bait. He'd been hearing talk like that from Alan all his life; it had lost its shock value a long time ago.

"Doesn't matter what unit," he said. "That's my whole point. It don't even matter what branch of the service. We're all soldiers, fighting a war far from home. And it's all us against the other guys. In the field or in the chopper, doesn't matter. Uniform, religion, skin color, none of that matters. We're U.S. soldiers first and foremost."

Alan snorted with laughter. "You sound like fuckin' GI Joe, you know that?"

Alan's voice, while still sarcastic, was almost light, as if he wasn't really willing to argue the point. Even in the midst of the mocking, Murdock _knew _his brother understood what he was saying. They all understood it. Life was "us and them" and there was a bond between "us" that wasn't broken by personal differences. Even difference that ran as deep as those between Murdock and his brother.

"Nah, you're GI Joe. I'm his devastatingly handsome sidekick, who swoops in and saves Joe's bacon when things get too hot."

Alan grumbled in response, something nonsensical and riddled with expletives. Murdock smirked as he stretched onto his stomach, but kept his eye on Alan. "Yup, that's what soldiers do. We're there for each other."

It's what Murdock knew he would do for Alan, or for any other guy who called for help. Flying choppers in Vietnam was certainly not something Murdock had envisioned when he was in the Academy. But it was where they needed him for the moment, and that was enough for him. Besides that, it had taught him something about interdependence and family that he'd never felt before. The competition he'd known in the Academy and in his days of flying the jets gave way to a deep and intense need for singularity. And that connection was valuable.

Soon enough his time would be up and he would back in the States as a test pilot. For the time being, he intended to make the most of things here. That meant making his chopper dance and being the best Huey pilot anyone ever saw, finding some common ground with Alan, and learning more about Cai. All and all, not a bad way to spend some time.

Alan's bitter, biting laugh pulled him abruptly out of his train of thought. "They teach you that in your fancy fuckin' school?"

Murdock hid his smirk. He knew Alan well enough to figure it probably grated on him that Murdock was technically his superior. He could've pushed that issue, taken the opportunity to cash in on it. But he was here to make peace with his brother, not piss him off. Well, piss him off any more than he already was; just existing was enough to piss Alan off. "Peace" hadn't come easy so far, and it wasn't likely to get any easier – at least not anytime soon. But there was no sense in pushing his buttons just for the hell of it.

"Just a God given talent on my part," he answered lightly. "Most of what they taught us in school involved not crashing into the ground and exploding in a flaming ball of wreckage. I'm pretty good at not doing that."

"Fuck…"

Murdock flashed Alan his widest grin, even though he was turned the other way. "What do you say? Wanna come fly with me and see how well I paid attention?"

He added just a hint of dare to that. Maybe if he could get Alan up in the air, something might change. Not something major… maybe just the slightest modicum of respect from Alan for something he knew he did very well. Maybe he would finally see something worthwhile in Murdock.

But instead of the hoped-for response, Alan only laughed. "Fuck no," he snapped. "They ever send me up in the air with your crazy ass at the controls, they better not tell me who's up there."

Murdock turned his head away before the smile fell, just in case his brother looked at him. Damned if he would ever let him see just how much words like that stung.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**1985**

Anyone under the age of 25 had zero interest in Murdock. They congregated together in small groups and basically stayed out of the line of fire. That left the remaining two-thirds of the family with their sights set directly on him just as soon as they walked in the door. At least, that's what it felt like.  
>"So," said the woman in the hat. Molly? Helen? "Where did you meet our Kelly?"<p>

"Ah…" He kept a smile in place. "Well, actually, that's kind of a long story."

"We have time."

"Murdock? Is that what they call you?" a much older man asked, eyeing him up and down through thick glasses. "What kinda name is that?"

He looked at the man. An uncle. Had to be. Great uncle maybe? "Actually it's my last name."

"Murdock?" his wife – or, at least, the woman on his arm - repeated. "Sounds Irish. Is it?"

"Um... not sure, exactly."

"What kind of people call you by your last name? Why in my day, we weren't too good to be called by our first names."

"Not sure?" The hat lady looked at him like he was daft. "How can you not be sure?"

Sure of what? He'd forgotten the question.

"We, uh... My family wasn't really..."

The woman in the glasses - Eve? – interrupted before he could get his stammering, stuttering response out. "I had a few friends who were Irish. Big drinkers. Do you drink?"

"What's your first name, boy?"

"Well in my experience, if a family doesn't communicate it's a sign of dysfunction."  
>"My first name is HM, if that's any easier." He realized as soon as he said it the new line of questions that were going to come up from that. "And no, I don't drink."<p>

"HM?" Hat woman was tenacious. "What does _that _stand for?"

"Actually, it doesn't stand for anything. It's on my birth certificate that-"

"You don't drink at all?"

Did he drink? After this experience, he was going to need a drink, that was for damn sure. "No. I've known a few alcoholics in my lifetime. Not interested in becoming –"

"Family members?"  
>"No. Friends, er... acquaintances."<p>

"So your parents gave you initials for a name." Eve looked like she had just swallowed a lemon. "Sounds like drinkers."

"Our people were always wary of folks who didn't seem to be forthcoming with their personal information," Uncle-whoever said.

"Are you trying to hide something?"

Murdock wanted something to do with his hands. Instead, he shoved them deep in the pockets of his slacks. He didn't even have the "security blanket" of his jacket. Never thought he'd miss it quite so much. It wasn't much, just a reminder that he was who he was. And with all these questions, it was easy to _forget_ just who he was.

He looked up as Aunt Ellen, Great Uncle Teddy's daughter, walked into the room. He remembered her. She had been one of the few people who'd made a good impression on him from the moment she'd arrived. She was a matronly figure, in body as well as personality. She assessed the situation quickly, and immediately stepped in to referee.

"Now, Dad, Eve, you folks slow down with Murdock. You're burgeoning him with your questions. He doesn't have enough time to respond before the next."

Murdock smiled. Not even sure where the questions left off, he just kept his smile in place and scanned as subtly as possible for Kelly. Where the hell had she disappeared to?

"Now Ellen, he's a grown man. He can speak for himself." That was Michael, right? A friend of the family.

"Oh, stuff and nonsense, Herbert."

Nope. He was wrong. That was Uncle Herbert. Murdock sighed to himself. He'd never keep all these people straight.

Aunt Ellen settled her rotund self into a chair. Herbert was off and running again before she even looked back up. "So you're from a line of Irish drinkers. Are you Catholic?"

"Uh…"

"Speak up, boy. You Catholic?"

Only a man 80-some years old could get away with calling him "boy" like that.

"Oh, Irish Catholic! You must have a lot of brothers and sisters. Is the blonde man a brother then?"

Murdock's ears perked. "Blonde man?"

"Yeah, the real good lookin' one."

That could only be Face. Murdock let out an audible sigh of relief at the simple fact that Face was here.

"What is it you like most about our Kelly?"

"How many brothers you got?"

"What parish you go to?"

He took a deep breath, and filed the answers in order before he spoke them in a rush. "There's a lot of things I like about Kelly. I have no brothers or sisters. And I'm not Catholic."

"Hmm _not _Catholic? What are you then?"

There was a _much _better answer for that than Southern Baptist, but he wasn't sure what it was.

"So who is that man?"

"He's a friend."

"A friend? from where?"

"Can't think of what you like about our Kelly?"

"Oh, from… everywhere." He couldn't keep up. "I've known him fifteen years now."

"I'd think if you're her boyfriend, you'd be able to say what you like about her."

"Um." He grabbed the first thing that came into his head. "She loves animals."

Shit. He could've come up with something better than that. But answers having to do with parts of her anatomy would've been even less appropriate.

"Fifteen years? How old were you when you met him?"

"I was ah..."

"Of course she loves animals. She's a vet."

Thank God he didn't have to figure out his age when he'd met Face. He was very good at math. But not when he was thinking so many things at once.

"Do you have animals?"

"I have a dog."

Shit...

"A dog? What king of dog? You don't cage him do you?"

"Black lab, and no I don't."

"Where is he? I didn't see him."

"You didn't kennel him, did you?" Hat woman looked morally offended at the thought.

"I didn't bring him. No, I have a friend looking after him."

Cousin Abigail joined the group. Her dark hair was identical to Kelly's in color, but longer. It was how Murdock remembered her in the crowd of unfamiliar faces.

"Another friend? You're a popular guy."

Plaid-shirt-man looked at him like he was under a microscope. "Do you spend a lot of time with your friends?"

Hat woman piped up. "Oh, yes, well, everyone knows how much drinkers love going out with friends."

Several sets of eyes turned to Murdock at that. But Aunt Ellen waved them off. "Oh, come now. Of course a young man such as he is would spend much time with his friends. And, Georgia, of course people socialize with their friends and have a drop of drink. Lord knows, you certainly have."  
>Georgia pursed her lips. "I'm a good Catholic. We have no idea what he is. He won't tell."<p>

At that question, Abigail perked up. "What does that matter?"

Where in the world had Kelly disappeared to? His face was starting to hurt from smiling.

Michael – Michael? - spoke up. "It's time to put away childhood things when you meet a woman like our Kelly."

Murdock wasn't even sure what childhood things he was referring to. But he was pretty sure that the man's name was Michael. The guy beside him was Herbert. Herbert nodded. "Yep, can't be doing young un's things when it's time to settle down. Gotta sow those wild oats before all that, now."

"So do you at least go to church?" Georgia demanded.

The correct answer to that was yes. But he couldn't lie his way through that and he knew it. "I... go when I can." That wasn't actually a lie. He didn't typically have Sunday mornings free to wander in and out of churches...  
>"Oh, when you can? What do you do on your Sundays?"<p>

"Do you want children? Kelly loves children."

Murdock's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Children?"

"Kelly is so good with kids. When she was young, she said she wanted ten."

Murdock heard more talking, but his brain was pretty much shut off at "she wanted ten." He cleared his throat as he took a big step back. "_Speaking_ of Kelly, I should really go see if she needs any help."

"Oh, Kelly is fine. Doing woman's work." Uncle Whoever was looking to get hurt. That's the only thing Murdock could assume.

"Now just what is that supposed to mean?"

He needed to get out of here.

Herbert looked at Murdock, unfazed. "Dontcha want kids?"

"Oh my! Does Kelly know that?"

He laughed tightly. "Kids? Oh, kids are great." He was ready to _bolt_ for the exit if he had to. "Can I get anyone anything from the kitchen?"

Abigail bounded at the chance to be near to Murdock. "Oh, what would you like? I'll get it for you!"

Great. Just what he needed.

"Yeah." Michael clasped his shoulder. "Let the woman folk handle the kitchen."

Aunt Ellen was trying to corral the group again. Abigail was practically hanging on his arm. Michael was leading him back into the center of the fray. Kelly was nowhere to be found.

"Now, he hasn't had much of a chance to respond now. Just let him be."

"He probably needs a drink." He wasn't even sure which of the women was whispering that. "You know how his type are."

"So tell me about your friend."

And suddenly, miracle of miracles, Kelly was at his side. "Murdock, could you please give me a hand? You're the only one tall enough to reach the good glasses."

Murdock was sure the sigh of relief was audible. "Sure!" He was equally sure that he was just a little too enthusiastic in his answer. He bit back the excitement, but he was already walking with her towards the kitchen.

Grabbing his hand and holding on tight, Kelly gave a warm smile over her shoulder to the mob of villagers. "We'll be right back."

The tone of her voice curbed whatever questions they still had. They all meant well. He knew that. But somehow, that just didn't make the situation any lighter. And it didn't make this game any easier to play.

**1968**

Jonathan was one of the few ACs who was easy to get along with. The kind of person an AC was - morally, ethically, humanly - determined the atmosphere in his bird. Murdock had flown with a few who were just flat out wrong. It hadn't happened all that often. First time they went on runs through the rice paddies with the gunner strafing random civilians was the last time Murdock flew with them. It had earned him some enemies when he'd had to explain to his commanding officer his reasons _why_ he refused to fly with them. Once he knew about it, his CO couldn't ignore it. But as far as Murdock was concerned, that wasn't a bad thing. They'd get written up, and they'd either get over it or they wouldn't. In the end, it meant that Murdock ultimately ended up flying with ACs like Jonathan - young, but experienced. Two months short on a yearlong tour, Jonathan knew what he was doing.

"Hey, where the hell have you been?" He lit up a cigarette as he flopped down next to Murdock, just outside the door of the barracks. "You took off like a bat outta hell with that pass the other day."

Murdock looked at Jonathan and grinned. "Nha Trang. And for the record, I take off like that all the time." Murdock had his hands behind his head and his face tilted to the sun, long legs stretched out in front of him. If it wasn't for the uniform, you could almost believe he was hanging out at the local park with friends.

"Yeah, no shit." Jon smirked at him. "You got a girlfriend up there or something?"

Eyes shut under the hot rays of the sun, Murdock's expression never changed. Cocky smile still place, he replied without even opening his eyes. "I've got plenty of somethings Jonny boy. And there's no need to swear." He shot a smirk in Jonathan's direction to go with the teasing.

Jonathan rolled his eyes as he laughed. "Fuck, man, you are something else."

Murdock shrugged.

Jon shook his head in disbelief, still smiling. "How do you do it?" There was something almost like admiration in his voice.

Murdock raised a brow. Poor kid looked like he should be getting ready for his prom. Not out here flying helicopters. "Do what? Have a razor sharp wit, continue to be the best pilot in the Air Force, or maintain my boyish charm and good looks?"

Jonathan's cynical half-laugh was enough to answer all of that. "No, you crazy fucker. How do you manage to go through every goddamn day in this hell hole without letting anything get to you?" He tipped his head, studying him curiously. "You know, I don't think I have ever seen you so much as bat an eyelash at the crap that makes most of us nuts, counting down days 'til we can go the fuck home."

"Why let it get to you Jon-o?" He pulled an arm from behind his head and made a sweeping gesture. "This is all just temporary, so why let it get you? You just gotta find the fun and enjoy it while you can. You're only two months short. You'll be sending me care packages from the States before you know it. By the way, I like Nutter Butter cookies and Dr. Pepper. Remember that when you mail that package."

Jonathan's look was a mix of curiosity and skepticism. It turned to amusement as Murdock grinned wider, pulled his knees up, folded his arms over them, and rested his chin on his arms. "Damn. She must be one hell of a lay."

Murdock grimaced at the crude comment. He shook his head a little. "You know me, Jon. Random sex isn't my thing. Trust me Jonny-jon. Love, fun, and enjoyment beats drinking, smoking, and whoring. Plus it's less likely to send you to the medic."

Jonathan smiled, but didn't look at him, just dragged on his cigarette. "You sound like a fuckin' flower child," he said, far more mellow and relaxed than he was vicious.

"Nah man, they do the same thing. Drink, smoke, sleep with anything in a skirt."

"But have all the love, fun, and enjoyment you can handle in the meantime."

Murdock looked out over his knees and let an odd expression cross his face. If he hadn't been in a warzone it might have almost been a hopeful look. "There's someone out there for me. And I won't have to pay her or get her drunk. It'll be something special, something incredible, something powerful and real. And when that happens I'll know it was worth it."

Jonathan rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. "Hopeless fuckin' romantic."

The smile came back to Murdock's eyes before he closed them and leaned his head back again. "You really should stop smoking, Jonny. It's going to give you black lungs and in addition to that, it will make your god-awful case of bad breath worse."

Jonathan pulled himself up to his feet. "So I take it this means you _don't _want to go get a drink with the rest of us? First round's on me."

"I'll be happy to get I drink with you as long as it's Dr. Pepper. Or Coke in a pinch." He stood to his feet and brushed himself off. "I do make for good company though. Witty, great at telling jokes…"

Jonathan laughed and shook his head as he started in the direction of the club, matching Murdock step for step. "You crack me up, you know that? Such a fuckin' square." He put an arm around Murdock's shoulders. "But I love ya, man. Yer the only goddamn thing that smiles on this base."


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Murdock had never been so happy to be recruited to reach something on the top shelf. He took his time getting the glasses down and setting them on the counter, one at a time.

"If I didn't know better, I'd almost think you were stalling," Kelly said with a slight smile.

He glanced back at her and briefly at Stacie, who was stirring something at the stove. She wasn't turned toward him, but he could somehow feel her eyes on him. She was watching his every move, even if she wasn't using her eyes. It made him sigh. How much more of this scrutiny was he going to have to endure before everyone could just get off his back?

Kelly set the glass she had been rinsing out down on the counter and took a step closer to him. Her smile grew just a fraction larger as she placed her hand on his arm. Involuntarily, he relaxed a little. She was warm and soft and standing so close, he could smell her shampoo. For a moment, she simply gazed at him, smiling in silence.

"Thank you," she finally whispered quietly.

"For what?"

She tilted her head, giving him that shy smile she used when she wasn't sure how to say what she meant. Her hand moved down his arm and then joined her other arm in sliding around his waist. She never looked away. "For being here."

"My pleasure." Did he mean that? He wasn't sure anymore

She pressed in close against him. Then, stretching up on her tip toes she gave him a very brief, innocent, but real kiss on the lips. He relaxed slightly at the soft feel of that kiss, and slowly turned to face her, sliding both arms around her waist. Yes, he did mean it. It felt good to be with her, even under the scrutiny. His hands remained modestly high on her back, but he held her close as he nuzzled her gently.

He set a few closed, gentle kisses on her lips, and the corner of her mouth. "I don't think your family likes me very much."

"Why do you say that?" Her teasing tone was balanced by the comforting way she was rubbing her hands over his back. There was nothing scandalous in her touch; it was warm and reassuring.

"I'm not good enough for you."

She pulled her head back just enough to blink at him, a bit of confusion in her smile. "I'm sure that's not it."

He laughed quietly. "Oh, I think it is."

She laid her head against his shoulder. "They've just never had the opportunity to meet a man I love." He could feel her smile growing. "I bet Aunt Jan has been waiting years to ask some of those questions."

Smiling softly, he dropped his forehead to hers. He couldn't remember which one Aunt Jan was and he didn't care to try. "Well that explains why she has so many of them."

He nuzzled her again, cheek to cheek, and pulled her in close, arms tight around her.

"Just a few more hours, right?" she whispered.

"Mmm hmm."

The sound of someone new entering the kitchen made him look up. He was stunned by just how happy he was to see Face stroll casually into the room, with all of his usual grace and presence. In just under a millisecond, Murdock watched as Faces eyes swept the room, taking in everything and revealing only what he wanted – in this case, a pleasant smile.

"Am I interrupting?"

The strange thing was, Murdock knew that was a genuine question. For anyone else, it might have been polite conversation. But if Murdock said yes, he knew for certain that Face would smile and walk away. Just having someone who both knew him and was watching out for him made Murdock's smile grow.

"Hiya Face."

Kelly stepped away with a smile and held out a hand. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"Thank you for the invitation." Face took her hand in both of his and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Everything looks wonderful. Including the hostess."

With a blush, Kelly smiled and stepped back. Murdock gave Face a hug. If it caught Face off guard, he didn't let it show. "Man, am I glad to see you," Murdock admitted quietly.

Face chuckled, returning the embrace. "That good, huh?"

Murdock patted Face's back before he stepped back and slid an arm around Kelly. Face raised the bottle in his hand. Wine – no doubt an expensive and wonderful wine that people who enjoyed rotten grape juice would ooh and aah over. "This is for you."

"Oh, thank you." She withdrew from Murdock as she took the bottle and turned to try and make room in the overflowing fridge.

Face stepped in a little closer as she walked to the other side of the kitchen and lowered his voice for the sake of privacy. "You look like you could use a glass of that."

Face knew he didn't like wine. Murdock smiled and shrugged, still well aware of Stacie's presence in the room and the way she was watching him with those eyes she had in the back of her head. Women all seemed to have eyes in the back of their heads. And super-sensitive hearing too. He'd learned a long time ago to be wary of their mystical powers. If Face's arrival had affected Stacie at all, it was to make her even more alert.

"Nah, I'm fine. Just pushing my way through the long and agonizing process of making good impressions on everyone."

Face smiled. "I'm sure they are all just anxious to see the man swept Kelly off her feet and won her heart."

"Well, they're anxious to see something." Murdock paused, eying Face. Something - specifically, Hannibal - was distinctly missing. "Did you come alone?"

"Yes, Hannibal was... unavoidably delayed by an unexpected... guest." By the way Face hesitated, and the way that the corners of his mouth twitched, Murdock knew there was more to the story. But it would have to wait. "He's going to drive up tomorrow. As soon as things are tied up."

"Wasn't he supposed to come with you?"

Face nodded and lowered his voice a little more. "He had some 'loose ends.' Which is usually what he says when Suzanne Davids* is in town." (*AN: See The Last Word.)

He knew immediately who Face was talking about. The timing left a lot to be desired, but still he felt his mouth twitch up in a small grin. The thought of Hannibal and agent Davids playing out their own strange courtship rituals was just too damn amusing. "I thought we were done dealing with her. Isn't that supposed to be all cleared up?"

"Several times over," Face agreed. "If I had to guess, I'd say he did something to piss her off on a very personal level. Again. You know Hannibal."

"I know Hannibal doesn't want any more problems with the Agency, but he can't help himself. He just loves to play with fire."

"Best I can tell, she's on her own time and just looking to settle a score."

"Last time that happened it included explosions and bullet wounds."

Face shrugged. It didn't really matter what he thought about Suzanne, or Hannibal's insistence on egging her on. He got a kick out of playing cat and mouse with her. And really, contrary to what she thought of herself, she was pretty harmless.

"He'll be here," Face assured. "Just not yet."

Murdock grabbed the last of the glasses down from the cabinet. "I was kind of surprised at how much Kelly wanted him to be here. All of us, really. She's been really stressed out about this."

"The more the merrier." Face glanced over at Kelly, who had finally finished sliding things around in the fridge. "She seems to be holding up pretty well." There was an unstated "good job" in that.

Murdock smiled, catching her around the waist as she walked past. Off guard, she nearly dropped the bowl of fruit salad she was carrying, but he caught and steadied it before it slipped out of her hands.

"Murdock!"

"She's holding up _very _well." Still holding her around the waist, he leaned down and kissed the side of her neck. "Beautiful as always."

She blushed. Face never missed a beat as he took the surprisingly heavy bowl from them. "Here, allow me."

He didn't bother to ask where she wanted him to put it, instead he turned his back to them. In theory, he was going to wander off and find some place for his burden. But Murdock knew it was a wingman at his best - giving him and Kelly some privacy while he watched out for who was coming in under the guise of surveying the crowded counter.

Murdock's kiss was mixed with a smile. As he pulled away, it grew even wider. "Smile, Darlin'." His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in closer and put his lips to her ear. "I have plans for you tonight."

***X*X*X***

Murdock _knew _that sound. No other sound was as effective at eliciting that adrenaline response from him. If he could fear, that was when he came closest to it – when the blood raced and his vision nearly blacked out from the increase in blood pressure. His hands were shaking, breathing heavy, adrenaline racing. There was a Chicom 51 caliber machine gun nearby. That slow pulse of its firing made his heart pound. He could see the tracers – they were almost as big as basketballs – sailing past the chopper.

"I've got it."

Even the armor plating around the seats and strapped to their chests wouldn't stop those bullets. The hole it would leave wasn't even the biggest concern. The things were designed to explode after impact. Murdock hadn't seen it, but he knew it. He'd heard other pilots talk about what it was like to watch while someone's chest burst from the inside out.

Heartbeat. Fast and hard in his ears. His chest was tight, hands almost shaking. There was no fear, only the rush of excitement. The thrill of knowing that they were about to cheat death one more time. Jon was tense. The look on his face was serious and worried. His knuckles were white where he was gripping the controls. Murdock couldn't stop smiling.

"If you want me to take it…"

Jon frowned deeply, but didn't look at him. "Hell no. I want to fucking live through it."

Murdock laughed. Ready, willing, anxious, full of adrenaline and energy. He was chewing on his lip. Nervous energy and tension. His hands were itching for the controls. His eyes flicked to the instruments, taking in the readings with a glance. He didn't have to look, he _felt_ what the controls would say. He could feel every rpm, every ounce of torque, every inch of altitude his bird – Jon's bird – had. He didn't have to think about what he was supposed to be doing, what he needed to do to keep this baby flying. It was as natural as breathing. No need for conscious thought; it was instinct for him.

In these moments, everything was startlingly, sharply clear to him. This was what he'd been born for. It was more than flying and being part of the skies, part of something that understood him as well as he understood it. This was flying on the edge. Every nerve, every fiber, every atom was dedicated to the task. There was nothing that existed outside of his chopper. Nothing in his life had ever demanded so much of him, or ever paid him back with such rewards. It was the most intense, unbelievable high he had ever found.

It went beyond testing every limit of physics, mechanics, and biology. He'd gotten that feeling every time he pushed his plane or chopper to take the sky. This was different. This was _for _something. Not grades, or praise or awards to make him feel accomplished. This was life and death - his, the crew's, and people who were total strangers but still part of this. He didn't give a damn if anyone else understood how hard it was, how much of him it took, how much he could give. He knew. Somehow, that was what really mattered. The fact that he had been tested and had won, beaten the odds, snatched a victory out of a loss, that's what had him grinning. It was a connection to something bigger and vastly more important than just himself.

The sound of the door gunner opening up with the 50 cal. registered somewhere in his mind, but even as loud as Murdock knew those guns where, it seemed like nothing more than background noise right now. Just part of the music of flight and battle.

"We're coming in on the coordinates. About two minutes until we reach the LZ."

Murdock was talking fast and he could hear his accent growing with every confident word. He was listing to the headset chatter as Jon asked the team on the ground to pop smoke. That nerve tingling excitement and dread kicked up another notch. There was something else demanding his attention. His eyes were already scanning the controls, the gauges, the map, the terrain, the incoming rounds, enemy positions, now he added in searching for the smoke and the LZ in the thick canopy below.

There it was. Hell yes! Right where Murdock had said the LZ would be. Hot damn, this was it. Grinning with excitement he thumbed his mic. "I've got red smoke Jon. Seven o' clock. Wanna ask them what pretty color we supposed to see?"

Jon confirmed it, this was it. This was their LZ and their team to pull out. All they needed now was the Sandies. They had been called in. Once they came through, this bird should have just enough time to land and get the men out before Charlie shot them down. I would take split second timing and no second guessing. It was exactly the sort of thing Murdock thrived at - speed and committing to something one hundred percent.

He felt rather than heard the Sandies coming. Maybe that was just his imagination, but he swore his chest tightened just a little at the first sound and vibration of an incoming jet. He had flown one of those planes before. Just for a split second he could feel that throttle in his hand the strumming of her engine through his seat.

Fast and low, the Sandies opened up rained down fiery hell on the jungle below, coming as close to the LZ as they could without risking the men. They did their job well.

Now it was Murdock's turn.

As the jungle smoldered and burned, Jon shot the landing. Murdock had to add watching the rotors and ground to his to do list, and he couldn't have been more damn thrilled about it. Smiling, he noted that Jon was sweating like a whore in church. But, when the gunners called clear, Jon set them down in a textbook perfect landing. In the end it didn't matter how you looked, it mattered how you did.

This was it, the moment of truth. Exposed and vulnerable, rotors beating frantically, anxious to take flight, they had to wait for the team to get out of position and load up. Then it was up to Murdock and Jon to get the Huey back up into the air and safely back to base without getting shot down, blown up, crashed or otherwise killed.

Time seemed to slow down for Murdock, each second hanging on for a life time before ticking away and sliding into the next. With startling clarity, he took in everything at once - the way the elephant grass bent under the force of the rotor wash, the dirty and exhausted faces appearing and moving towards them with grim determination, the spat of small arms fire followed by the rattle of an M-16. All the gauges, all the people, good forces and bad ones, the team on the ground, the crew of the chopper. In one frozen second Murdock could see and understand all of it. These men, _his _men were going back to their base today. They were not dying. What Murdock was doing - what he was – _mattered_.

Just as the first man hit the skid, time slammed forward with urgency as the men piled in. Danger, blood, fear, sweat. Then need to get out _now_. Can't take too long on the ground. Time to _move_! Then Jon was doing just that.

Murdock gave a little shout as the chopper took off. He couldn't help it. They were free, free of the earth and the jungle. As the battle bellow faded into the background, Murdock wanted to scream for joy. They had snatched their team from under the nose of the enemy and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it. He had won pure and simple, and he wanted to revel in that euphoria forever.

By the time they set down, he could _feel _the strange look Jonathan was giving him. He grinned back as he ran through a quick post-flight check. "I'll never understand you, Murdock."

Murdock grinned in response. He knew exactly what it was that Jon didn't understand. And it was something he didn't even want to try and explain. It was him, at his core, pure and simple. "Ah, don't feel bad, Jonny boy. No one understands me."

And speaking of people who didn't understand him, his time was up to ask for another few days off in beautiful, sunny Nha Trang. Maybe Alan would start wondering where he was if didn't check in soon.

He headed back to his bunk to drop off his gear, smile firmly in place. The letter there stopped him, and he paused for a long moment to stare at it. Who would send him a letter? Sitting down on the edge of the cot, he grabbed the envelope and slit it open. As he read the contents, the smile on his face slowly fell. It was an official letter, from an attorney, regretfully informing him of the death of both of his grandparents.


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

**1968**

The club on base at Nha Trang was dark, cool, and full of smoke and raised voices. From his table in the corner, Murdock nursed his Kool-aid, foot tapping in time to the music as his eyes followed the soldiers around. Coming here was a way to be social. He liked being with people and socializing came easy for him. He was used to people watching him, so there was never any sense of awkwardness when he was in a full room. He could sit, joke, tell stories, or just listen. Whatever was needed, he could do.

But even more interesting was the opportunity to people watch. Watching drunk soldiers was almost like a pastime. It was fascinating, in a way, to watch the hardened men who were so used to having complete control slowly lose all inhibitions and break down into base parts. It was one of the reasons drinking held very little appeal to him. He never wanted to be _that _uninhibited. He just never understood the point of drinking, let alone drinking until he lost his ability to think, talk and walk.

The other, much bigger reason, was dear old Dad. So much of that man's time and money had been spent trying to crawl inside a bottle of whiskey, and all it ever seemed to do was make him meaner. Murdock was _nothing _like his old man, and he was going to keep it that way. Sure, he had tried some homemade wine with some of the kids in school, but that was more about the company and fun. Living with his old man was more than enough reason for him to never want to be near a bottle for the sake of the bottle itself.

He'd never been more relieved than the day he knew he wouldn't have to face his drunken father ever again. The day he first stood in his bedroom at his grandparents' house…

Without thinking, his hand drifted to his shirt pocket where the folded letter was. There was a sharp, fresh stab of pain when he felt the paper crinkling under his fingers. Holding his hand over his pocket, pressing the letter tight to his heart he took a deep breath and dropped his head, trying like hell to push away the waves of hurt.

Closing his eyes didn't help. He could still see the words, mixing up with memories. "We regret to inform of the death of Ruby and Patrick Sullivan." They hadn't really "raised" him; he hadn't gone to live with them until he was fifteen-years-old. But it was his Grandpap who had shown him how to be a man. It was Gran who'd shown him how to love and be loved. She was probably the only person Murdock had ever met who both understood and accepted him. "Her changeling," she'd called him, with a smile that let him know that was just fine with her. They were the people who had given him his only real home. And now they were gone. There was an empty hollow feeling, so deep he was sure it would never be filled.

Images came unbidden to his mind. Grandpap taking him out to see Mr. Tom, his best friend and the man who made a living crop dusting. Murdock could still see that plane; it had seemed so big to him at the time. He could feel the wind in his hair and the thrill of taking over the stick, feeling the vibrations of the engines rumble through his body. That feeling of being totally free and in control, touching the sky for the first time. Grandpap had died of a heart attack, the letter said. He'd died instantly.

Gran had died two days later. The doctors said it was a stroke, but Murdock knew better. She'd died of a broken heart. His grandparents had never spent much time talking about it, but they loved each other. Even as a kid, Murdock could see it in their touches and glances. Without him, Gran just wouldn't see much need to stay around in this world.

Murdock sighed. He had come to Nha Trang to tell his brother. Looking back, he wasn't sure just what he thought Alan would do or say. But he hadn't expected the flippant, "So what?" He'd been left staring as Alan walked away, laughing with a group of his buddies.

In some small way, he should have been expecting just that sort of reaction from Alan. For reasons Murdock would never comprehend, Alan had stayed behind with the old man. The distance and space between the two of them certainly hadn't helped their already strained relationship. If anything, it just seemed to foster the anger and hatred that his brother had always seemed to have for him. Murdock was the pussy who couldn't take it; Murdock ran away.

Still, Alan's reaction had filled Murdock with equal parts anger and sadness. With no place left to go, Murdock had wandered over to the club on base. He didn't want to be alone. Not now, not here. Another tie had been cut. There was nothing left in Texas for him anymore. All that he had left was here in god-forsaken Vietnam.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes again and looked at the men around him. It was like he was seeing it through a new set of eyes. There was something else in the club, something he had never noticed before, something under all the noise and smoke and booze-soaked laughter. He could feel it now, like a connection he hadn't felt before.

It was in the eyes that broke away from their friends' for a second. That dark shadow that passed over them as they thought about whatever it was they had seen, done or lost. The men who looked down at their drinks with a hope of impending relief. There was a deep, palpable layer of pain, hidden underneath an almost desperate enjoyment. It wasn't like the old man needing a drink just to keep his hands from shaking. The drinking here wasn't about losing control, or acting stupid, or an excuse to swing. Maybe it was about finding a way to numb the pain, to make the losses seem distant. It made sense, if that was the appeal. Thousands of miles from home, there was not much else for them to do, except come to the bar and forget. And he could understand the appeal of forgetting.

Lifting up his glass in a salute, Murdock said a silent goodbye to the only two people he was ever sure had loved him. The pain was still there. Sitting alone and drinking cherry Kool-aid wasn't doing a thing to help. He didn't want to trade control for numbness, as appealing as that sounded at first consideration. Pushing back his chair, he stood up and made his way thought the crowded bar; full of men having fun trying to forget. Maybe the flowing liquor would dim the pain of their loss. For his part, he wandered alone, out into the muggy, oppressive heat of the night.

**1985**

Kelly had been adamant about not having liquor in her house. She'd allowed wine, but with some reservation. Murdock hadn't really felt the need to know why; it didn't matter much to him when he wouldn't miss it anyways. At least, that had been his thought before the evening had gotten underway. Now he was finding that he could really use a drink. Too many interrogations, too many unfamiliar people asking too many personal and unanswerable questions. Too much smiling and too much effort spent getting on their good side and yet he still didn't feel like he'd made any headway. They weren't all hostile, but none of them were really comfortable, either. And they didn't make him comfortable.

He was starting to notice a pattern. He would encourage her, then she would encourage him. But right now, he didn't want encouragement. He wanted escape. He'd never really minded being on display. But that was mostly because he'd never really cared what people thought about him. This was different. Kelly cared. He understood why, at least on a base level. He didn't quite understand the level of her paranoia about his first impressions. But one way or another, it mattered a lot to her. He'd play along if it killed him. And at this rate, it just might.

He didn't care for wine, but it was the closest thing he had to the good stiff drink he wanted. It had taken a good twenty minutes before he managed to excuse himself from Aunt Edna's questioning – everything from his ethnic origins to his political affiliations – and make his way to the front porch.

Face was there, studying the cars with an amused, relaxed look. He cast a lingering look at the glass of wine in Murdock's hand, and raised a brow. But he didn't ask. He just raised his own glass with a smile. "Cheers."

Murdock forced a smile. It wasn't terribly convincing. He raised his glass nonetheless. "Yeah."

He could feel Face's eyes on him as he walked forward to the white railing. Face had turned to put his back to the yard, and leaned now against the railing, arms loosely crossed in a relaxed pose. "How you holding up?"

Murdock sighed. "I don't get this family thing, Face."

Face laughed. "_You _don't? At least you had a family you can compare it to."

"It's different."

"But you have a frame of reference."

Murdock sighed, irritated. "This is just another social situation for you, Face. But it's not for me. I feel like I'm on a stage, trying to be someone I'm not."

"Why?" Face's tone was almost accusative. "What is it you think you have to hide?"

"What _don't _I have to hide?"

"You're not a military fugitive…"

Murdock glanced at him, a lingering gaze, then sighed as he lowered his eyes. "Face, I live in a psych ward."

"I know. I was the one who got you out, remember?"

"Kelly is paranoid about them finding that out."

"Well, if they did, she'd definitely have some explaining to do."

Murdock was quiet for a moment. "You know, I thought this would be easy," he finally started, hesitantly. "Like a scam, almost. But it's not. It's more complicated than that."

"Why?" Face asked, studying him curiously. He grinned. "Family Man Murdock. With the innate ability to have all the right answers and warm the hearts of even the most untrusting relatives."

Murdock laughed quietly, to himself, then shook his head. "It's just... It's different, Face. Even scams, I mean, what's the worst that can happen, right? And this is... This is _Kelly_, man. This is like... This is serious."

Murdock could feel Face's eyes on him. "So what's the problem, Murdock? The questions? The judgment? Too much repetitive conversation?" He paused briefly. "Or is it just too _normal_?"

"All of the above?"

"Oh, come on, Murdock."

"Face, I'm AWOL from the psych ward to be here. That works against me on _every _level."

"They don't know that."

"_I _know."

Face stood up straight again and turned to face the cars, beside Murdock. "So just be sincere if it's stressing you out. Hell, maybe that's the problem in the first place. You aren't being sincere, and you sincerely love Kelly."

"I do love Kelly," Murdock said quietly.

"So just be honest. And if you need to edit things here and there, then do it."

"Things," Murdock repeated. "Things like where I live, what I do for a living, my parents, my career, my background, how Kelly and I _met_..."

Face shrugged. "Well, some of it, you could probably even get away with sincerely telling them that you would prefer not to talk about that."

"Or that… or that… or that… or -"

"Have you talked to Kelly about this?" Face cut him off. "She should have some idea of what her family wants to hear. Or at least an idea of what she wants you to say."

"Heh. She just doesn't want me to embarrass her." Murdock's brow furrowed. "Which... I understand..."

Face nodded. He understood, too. Their lives were anything but normal and acceptable by most people's standards. They all had to deal with this to some degree. "Well, your parents you can be honest about. I mean, even if it was as bad as my story, you can't be held accountable for their actions. Financially you're fine. Even if you worked at In and Out Burger, you can tell them that you have investments in multiple companies."

"Oh, yeah. By the way. You're my stock broker."

Face blinked. "I'm your what?"

"Yeah, the guy in there, Uncle… Stu or Stan or something. He wanted to talk about the stock market because I actually tried that investments approach. And then he wanted to talk. And since I don't know the first thing about the stock market –"

"Okay, okay, I get it."

Murdock sighed. "It's just... about the only thing that I _can _be honest about is the fact that I love her. And that's just..."

Face was quiet for a moment as Murdock let his thoughts trail off. "I can take the attention off you if you want," he offered with a shrug.

"Oh, yeah, Face, that's just what I need." The sarcasm was almost biting. "I got news for you, Face, you got eyes on you, too. An' I'll kindly ask _you _to not embarrass _me_."

"Embarrass you?" Face looked up in mock offense. "Never."

Murdock returned the offense with a glare, also fake. He sipped the wine and frowned. Why was he even drinking that? He didn't even like it.

"Oh, I am supposed to warn you though. About this brother of Kelly's?" Murdock turned and looked Face in the eye. "Don't mention the military. Warning from Kelly's brother-in-law."

Face raised his eyebrow at that. Murdock couldn't imagine he'd planned on mentioning the service or anything remotely associated with it; no need to point these people in the direction of wanted posters. But the warning was still significant.

"This just keeps getting better and better." He gave a fake smile.

"Sorry," Murdock sighed, reading the look. "I don't really know what all is involved. But I got the same warning so... passing it on." He tried once more to sip the wine, made a face, and handed it over. "Here. You can have this. Eighty-some dollars for a bottle of something I can't stand the taste of just don't make a whole lot of sense to me."

Face didn't point out that he would have opted for the two hundred dollar bottle. He took the glass, and Murdock sighed as he looked back over his shoulder. "Guess I should get back in there."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the sound of tires on the gravel drive made them both look up. A beat up 70-something brown Cutlass with a cracked windshield pulled right up to the house and parked, blocking in several cars that were off to the side. Murdock took one look at the driver of the car and something inside of him was immediately sounding off warnings.

As a relatively clean cut man in a cheap grey suit stepped out of the driver's seat, he locked eyes with Murdock almost immediately. But his words were to the older woman getting out of the back seat. "See, Ma, I told you." His words were filled with vicious irritability – the kind that didn't care who he ripped up. Anyone in his way was going to be the direct object of his venting. "Nobody dresses up for this shit."

Face sipped his newly-acquired glass of wine and took a step closer to Murdock, lowering his voice. "I think he's talking about you."

Murdock glanced at him, and he smirked. Neither of them had to point out the irony, that in a button down shirt and slacks, Murdock _was _dressed up. And Face, in an eight hundred dollar suit, was simply wearing what he wore just about every day.

The woman who got out of the back seat was in a knee-length black dress with a somewhat gaudy red and green sequin pattern. Murdock saw the family resemblance immediately. It probably helped that she had the same worried expression on her face that Kelly had been wearing most of the past few days.

"Randy, please." Her voice was similar, too. "Do it for me."

"I did do it for you. And it ain't like I got much of a choice now. What am I gonna do, strip naked before I go in there?"

The front passenger door opened. The man who stepped out was most likely Kelly's father. "Give it a rest, Randy," he said authoritatively. "Not gonna kill you to look presentable for one night outta the year."

Randy grumbled under his breath as he started toward the house. His feet dragged. He was off balance. He was drunk. "So much for keeping everyone at this party sober," Murdock said quietly, loud enough for Face but not for Randy.

Face sipped his wine calmly. "Why don't you go give Kelly a heads up?" He smiled wickedly as Murdock cast him a slightly concerned look. "I'll keep him busy for a minute or two."

Slight concern turned downright wary. "If you pick a fight with the angry drunk in the cheap suit, I'm gon' hear about it from now 'til kingdom come."

Face chuckled. "Relax. I'm not gonna pick a fight with him." He shrugged. "Just thought I'd buy you a few minutes, is all…"

Murdock studied him for a long moment, unsure, then finally turned and walked back into the house.


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**1985**

"Hi." Face extended a hand as Randy took the step up to the wraparound porch. "You must be Kelly's brother."

The man scowled, but shook his hand. "Who the hell are you?"

"Joseph Ranger. I'm a friend of Kelly's. And for the record, personally, I really like the suit. It's very..." Face looked him up and down, "fitting."

Randy's eyes narrowed. "What kind of friend?"

Face didn't have a chance to answer before the woman stepped up onto the porch, extending a hand and a warm smile. Now that she was closer, the first thing Face noticed was the three or four-day-old bruise around her eye, under layers of makeup that couldn't quite conceal it. He straightened a little and his eyes flickered to her husband, but his reaction was otherwise hidden as he shook her hand.

"Oh, are you Kelly's boyfriend?" she asked politely. She was so soft-spoken, he barely heard her.

He kept the perfect, charming smile in place. "No, that would be my friend, HM Murdock."

"Oh, right. That's right." She gave a slight laugh. "She told me his name. I'm just so forgetful. I can't ever remember anything important."

Self-deprecation within thirty seconds of a greeting. He hadn't even gotten her _name _yet. The warning bells were going off.

He turned to the sixty-something man who was making his way to the porch. "Mr. Stevens, I presume?" They shook hands firmly as he came closer. "I'm Joseph Ranger, Kelly's friend."

"Good to meet you." A polite smile, no hint of emotion, no name offered. He was setting boundaries. And his signals screamed, "Stay the hell away."

"Where are you guys coming from?" Face asked, curiously. "Did you have a long trip?"

"Sacramento," Mr. Stevens answered abruptly.

Face chuckled. "That's a ways."

Randy was glaring at him, probably for no other reason than because he was in the line of fire. Face stared back impassively, still holding his wine glass loosely between his fingers. He directed the next question straight at Randy. "Are you staying in that motel down the street? It's not much to look at, but it's a lot closer than anything else."

"Yeah, we're staying there," Randy answered gruffly. "Now, are you gonna get out of the way so we can go inside or are we just supposed to stand out here and talk all night?"

"Oh!" Face stepped aside with an apologetic look and gestured for them to pass.

Randy pushed past him before he was out of the way. His personal space violated, Face acted on instinct toward the man who had failed in every way to make a positive first impression. He hesitated, he let Randy shoulder his way past, and he tipped the wine glass as Randy bumped his arm.

"What the hell!"

The mortified look Face wore was well-practiced. "Oh! Gee, man, I'm so sorry." A nearly-full glass of dark red wine was dripping from the coat. But Face had been nice with his aim. He hadn't put the contents of the glass on the front of Randy's pants. Reaching to his inside pocket, Face grabbed a handkerchief. "Here, let me get that for you."

"Man, don't touch me!" Randy yelled, shoving him back.

Face kept his instincts in check this time and simply stared back with a guilty, sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Randy. I really am. It just slipped."

As Randy's father pulled him in through the front door, taking off the coat as he walked, Face kept his expression in place for the sake of the woman still standing beside him.

"Boy, what a horrible first impression." He laughed nervously. "I hope I can make up for it. I'm not usually so clumsy."

She smiled tightly. "It's okay. Sometimes these things happen. Besides." She stepped forward and he offered an arm, almost out of habit. She hesitated only briefly before she took it. "He didn't want to wear that coat anyways."

Maybe Face should've gone for the pants after all.

**1968**

War made everyone a little crazy. Murdock had figured that out quick. Either he'd embrace the insanity, find ways to cope with it and appreciate it, or he'd let it break him down until he truly _did _lose his mind. He'd seen examples of both. He damn sure didn't want to be the latter.

He remembered worrying about the stress of learning to fly a chopper, and being sent to an active combat zone. But learning to fly had turned out to be a breeze compared to what he'd gone through learning to fly fighter jets. There was a greater need for coordination in a chopper, but there was a lot more time for action and reaction when compared to a fighter jet, and none of the g-forces to fight. Murdock had mastered helicopters in no time flat. Even with the limited number of hours he had put in, he was still the best chopper pilot around. That wasn't bragging or vanity; it was just a fact. If it could get airborne, Murdock could master it; he could make it dance for him.

The problem was, right now, there was nothing to dance to. Supply runs had to be the most god-awful boring thing to do in the air. Granted, it was better than sitting on the ground, in the humid heat, playing cards and drinking Kool-aid. But then again, when they were grounded, it usually meant that there was a team on the ground. And they could be called to extract at any moment. The stress of that tension – knowing that there was an exciting moment looming on the horizon –was at least stress, if not adrenaline. Unless someone started shooting at them – which wasn't terribly likely at this altitude – there was nothing to even keep his mind occupied, much less keep his adrenaline flowing.

He wasn't even the AC; he was second chair. Granted, that kept his hands on the controls. But there was something about that that was frustrating to him on a most basic level. He'd flown with the most prestigious unit in the US Air Force. And now he'd been reduced to menial milk runs. The politics of it were simple, and he understood them. This was where they needed him and, hell, he'd _requested _to go to Vietnam. But somehow, he'd anticipated much more adrenaline associated with being in the middle of a war torn country. Instead, the fact of the matter was, if anything interesting _did _happen, he'd turn the controls over to Jon, per protocol.

Not that anything would happen.

Picking up supplies meant essentially flying from point A to point B safely and slowly, then waiting for the unload, and returning. No straining the limits, no pushing to the edge, no three dimensional physic equations to see if what he dreamed up could be done by his machine. No whine of an engine pushed past its safety limits, no heart-stopping free falls. Just miles and miles and miles of slow moving jungle, occasionally dotted with smoking, burning holes.

Humming the Rolling Stones under his breath, he checked the gauges then shot a look at Jonathan. Even on a milk run, Jonathan was tense and edgy. Of course, he was short timing it...

"Everything is both hunky and dory here," Murdock reminded him, flashing him a grin. "I think you can relax a bit."

Jonathan glanced briefly at him. "I _am_ relaxed."

Murdock laughed. "Right. Course you are. That's why you look like you're gonna have kittens."

No answer.

Murdock smiled wildly. "Come on, man, it's a milk run. We could do it in our sleep, backwards, with one hand."

Maybe a gauge would go. That would be something to break the boredom at least.

Jonathan sighed, clearly unamused. "You know, we're supposed to keep the headset chatter down."

He checked his map again, and his instruments. Murdock was the one flying, but even navigation seemed to cause Jonathan a heap of stress. Just how he could get stress out of navigations was God's own private mystery. It was just numbers and formulas, and those never changed. They never threw anything unexpected at you or made you think outside the box. Always the same, every time.

Sighing to himself, Murdock gave up on conversation. Jon was a good guy; no sense in get him worked up anymore then he already was. Leaving him to his "stress," Murdock let his mind wander. He hadn't been kidding, he _could_ fly this in his sleep. When he was in school and with the Thunderbirds, he'd gotten used to having all of his senses, every fiber of himself tuned into his craft. It was almost a unity – him and the aircraft. The plane was just an extension of himself, like a limb. He never fought the controls; he never had to. All he had to do was think what he wanted to do and the jet did it. It took no more thought or effort than walking. But man, when it was time to run and jump and flip and cartwheel…

Hundreds of thousands of dollars to train him, and here he was, fifteen clicks of north of nowhere Vietnam, picking up supplies. There was a part of him – the part he'd never let show – that was indignant about that. He was capable of so much more than this…

"Hey, Jon?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you not die of boredom?"

Jon stared at him for a moment, as if he couldn't believe Murdock was asking that. Murdock couldn't choke back the laugh at the expression on his face. "Guess that answers that."

"I thank God for boredom," Jon finally answered. "I once had a streak where I flew 26 days in a row taking hits on my chopper every goddamn day. Any one of those holes they patched up could've been in me. I'm five weeks short, man. I _want _to be bored."

Of course he did. The fact that he was short was _why _he was relegated to these milk runs. But it was almost enough to make Murdock crazy.

"You know, you can fly with another AC," Jon reminded him. "I'm sure there's other assignments that are much more interesting."

Murdock didn't bother answering that. If more interesting also meant more "controversial," he wasn't interested. It was one of the reasons he'd stuck to Jon like glue ever since they'd first hooked up. Milk run or no, Murdock slept with a clear conscience after flying with Jon.

Out of the corner of his eye, Murdock saw smoke rising. For just a moment, his pulse picked up. Did someone need out? Almost as quickly, he realized the planes flying overhead. "Eleven o'clock," he pointed out.

Jon glanced over just briefly. "It looks like they're bombing," he said seriously.

Murdock laughed. "No kidding? I thought those Sandys were just taking pictures when the jungle spontaneously combusted."

Jon didn't answer. Murdock's attention remained on the planes for a long moment. They were too far away to affect his flying. He smiled faintly as he watched them. Man, it would be nice to take one of those girls out into the open sky and open her up…

"You know, Murdock, sometimes I still don't understand why you're here."

Jon's voice broke through his daydream, and he glanced over as he considered the question. "'Cause they needed people to fly in lovely Southeast Asia."

"You could still request a transfer, you know."

Murdock laughed. "They sent me here 'cause they _need _me here."

"The need pilots of all types." Jonathan paused. "How did you end up with choppers anyways? Weren't you a fighter pilot before?"

Murdock hesitated for a long moment. He could lie. But what was the point? "I wanted to be closer to the troops," he answered. "I actually requested the transfer here when I found out my brother was here. They had me do a conversion course for choppers, but when I got here, one of the first things I found out was how easy it'd be to get a transfer back. I got the experience. Thing is, right now I wanna be close to the troops."

Jon was looking at him funny. He could see it out of the corner of his eye. "Why don't you transfer to be closer to your brother? Where's he at?"

"Mike Force. Nha Trang."

"You could get an assignment in Nha Trang, you know."

Murdock knew that. He'd considered it. But in the end, he'd concluded that it was better if he stayed so close but so far away. Alan might come around someday, might realize that having a brother was a blessing and not a curse. Even if it didn't, it didn't really matter. Murdock would be here in Vietnam as long as Alan was. But he knew damn well that any closer than he already was would only make Alan that much more angry and hostile.

"I like working with the Lurps* and the Special Forces guys right here," Murdock finally answered. He shot Jonathan a grin. "Besides, to haul around the best, you need the best. And that would be me." (*AN: Lurp=LRRP, Long Range Recon Patrol)

Jonathan laughed. "Anyone ever tell you modesty's _not _your strong point?"

"Just stating the facts."

Murdock shook his head slightly at the smoke and flames wafting over the treetops. "Gotta love the smell of that napalm."

"Hopefully it's just the jungle they're hitting. You ever seen that shit up close? What it does?" Jonathan shook his head slowly.

"Never seen it up close, but it sure smells bad enough."

"Well, hope you never have to see it. That shit is a mess.

Murdock couldn't help a slight snort of laughter. "Napalm? Heh. Napalm is nothing compared to what we nailed them with in WWII. Now _that _was a bomb worth dropping. This napalm is a waste of flight time."


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**1985**

Kelly's dining room table was not nearly large enough to seat an entire house full of people. She'd prepared for that. As the women crowded into the kitchen to serve, the men were setting up folding tables and chairs in the living room. For almost a half hour, as people found seats and set their plates from the dishes on the kitchen counters, it was pure chaos. Then grace was said, chatter resumed, and Kelly finally collapsed into a chair beside Murdock with Stacie on her other side and most of her immediate family across the table. Her father was the only one missing, seated with his brothers at a table in the living room.

"Is everything okay?" Kelly asked, concerned.

"Why don't you try it and find out?" Stacie answered with a smile.

"It's wonderful, honey," her mother offered.

Kelly picked up her fork, but never actually made it to the food before she set it down again and pushed her chair back. "Oh! I forgot about the -"

Murdock didn't give her a chance to finish. He took her shoulder, keeping her from rising to her feet. "I'll get it. You just sit." He was up before she could protest.

"Oh, uh…" She seemed startled by the offer. "There's a… the pie in the oven. It needs to come out before it burns."

Murdock nodded and disappeared. Kelly once again tried to eat, hesitating this time. Face watched her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'll tell you what, Kelly," Stacie said. "You are braver than I for taking on the task of feeding all these people."

Kelly forced a smile. "I feel like I'm forgetting something."

Face grinned back at her. "That's probably because you've been so worried for so long about _not _forgetting something that it's worn a path in your brain."

She stared at him blankly for a long moment.

"Eat, damn it," Stacie ordered. "Before it gets cold."

Finally, Kelly ate. Murdock returned several minutes later, whispered something in her ear that made her blush purple, and sat down without a word to the rest of the table. The interrogation began.

"So, HM." Mrs. Stevens paused, giving him a soft smile. Her tone was by far gentler than any Face had heard since he'd arrived. "It seems odd to call you HM. What does that stand for?"

"Actually, it's on my birth certificate that way," Murdock answered comfortably. "Most everyone calls me Murdock, if that's less awkward for you."

Randy snorted with laughter. "Ever ask your parents what they were smoking when they came up with that?"

Face looked up, across the table and at Randy, with a look that could almost be considered a glare. But Murdock took it all in stride. "Actually, it was my mother who came up with it and I never had the opportunity to ask her. She died when I was five."

Good move. Shock silenced Randy for just long enough to let the wave of sympathy ripple through the others at the table. Kelly's sister was the one to speak. "That's horrible," she said softly. "How did she die?"

"An accident." Murdock took a sip from his glass. "I prefer not to talk about it."

Another good move – handing his opponent blanks for ammunition. If Murdock wasn't comfortable with this game, he still played it like a pro.

"So did you grow up around here?" Mrs. Stevens asked, changing the subject slightly.

"Texas, actually."

"What part?"

"Odessa."

"With your father?"

"For a while. And my grandparents."

"Siblings?"

"No. None."

The answer made Kelly pause, and her mother raise a brow. "Oh? Kelly said you had a brother."

Murdock choked on a response. Face watched him out of the corner of his eye. Damn that wild card. No way of knowing how much Kelly had told them. _Come up with something, Murdock, or you're going to get caught in the lie._

Murdock smiled. "It's a little more complicated than that." He hesitated briefly. "He may have technically been my brother – half brother, actually – but we didn't grow up in the same house and we never got along. We don't keep in touch. We don't even share the same last name. When you say siblings, I think of the people you grew up in the same house with. And he doesn't fit that description."

"Well, by that definition," Face interjected with a smile, "I guess I'm blessed with dozens of them."

"Dozens?" Margaret asked.

Murdock breathed an almost audible sigh of relief as Face took the stage for a minute and let him recover. Face gave a brief history with such a tone as to make them believe that he was comfortable talking about his childhood in the orphanage with any random person off the street. He wasn't of course, and Murdock knew that. Murdock made a mental note that he owed Face one for this.

He felt Kelly's hand on his knee, and checked to make sure that everyone was thoroughly engrossed in Face's story before he turned and leaned toward her a bit. "Anything else you told them about me that I might need to know about?" he asked under his breath.

"I'm sorry," she whispered back. "I didn't realize it was a big secret."

Big secret? His own team hadn't known about his brother – except for Hannibal – until Alan had shown up unexpectedly on his doorstep a few weeks ago, looking for help. It was still a sore spot – one that Murdock had no desire to talk about.

But he couldn't dwell on that right now. He only had so long before they turned back to him for more questions. He took a breath, regaining his composure and his thought processes. A slight smile crossed his face. "You can make it up to me later."

Kelly blushed.

"So what do you do for a living, Murdock?"

Murdock hesitated for a moment, buying a few seconds with a quick drink. "I'm a pilot," he finally answered, comfortably.

"Oh? What do you fly?"

Murdock chuckled. "Just about anything with wings. And helicopters, too."

"For which airline?"

"Actually, I fly charter," Murdock answered. "Planes, choppers… whatever the situation requires."

Mrs. Stevens frowned and shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't understand. What company do you work for?"

Murdock hesitated too long. He was trying hard not to lie outright; verifiable facts were always dangerous. "He works with me," Face offered, giving him an out. "Yeah, we run a small business. I'm sort of a booking agent. He handles the flying and I handle the rest."

The woman smiled politely. "Oh. I see."

"Have you ever taken a helicopter through the Grand Canyon?" Face asked her.

She shook her head. "Can't say that I have."

"Oh, you should," Murdock cut in, recovering the conversation. "You absolutely should. It's a beautiful sight."

"So did you have to go to school for that?"

"Yeah." Murdock nodded. "Flight school. I did it when I was sixteen and then learned choppers later."

"So did you ever actually go to college?"

He paused. "I… did, yes. I have a bachelor's degree in aerospace engineering."

"Where from?"

Shit. Murdock took a breath. "US Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs."

Drew's attention focused. Everyone else seemed to take it in stride. Maybe it had been a big deal out of nothing. "You were in the Air Force?" Mrs. Stevens asked innocently.

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

Face had looked up now, too, curious about the line of questioning. It didn't seem hostile. And Murdock had nothing to tell her but the truth. "Well, I did a normal two year rotation with the Thunderbirds and then was reassigned to fly choppers."

"You flew with the Thunderbirds?" Face asked quickly, feigning shock. "I never knew that."

Face had seen his service record at least a dozen times. He was setting him up again. Murdock went with it; he trusted Face. "Yeah, I did."

Face leaned forward, talking to those across the table, specifically Mrs. Stevens. "I don't know if you're familiar with the Thunderbirds, but they're a demonstration unit that goes all over. They're really an elite unit; very hard to get into."

Murdock hid his smile. Leave it to Face to throw around words like "elite unit" to make an impression.

"How did you swing that, Murdock? And straight out of the Academy?"

"It's all about test scores." Murdock lowered his eyes modestly. "And I've always done well on tests."

Randy had been noticeably quiet, focused on his food. But in the brief pause that followed, he looked up and sipped his drink. "So you were in Vietnam, then?"

There was the trigger word. It made Kelly react immediately. "Randy…"

"No politics at the dinner table, Randy," Margaret added, not looking up from her plate.

"Was just a question," Randy chuckled.

That might have been true if not for that challenging gleam in his eye. Murdock studied him carefully. The war had been over for more than ten years and it was still considered politics at the dinner table? What was he looking for?

Their gazes remained locked for a long moment. Then, finally, Randy smirked. "So did you?"

"Randy," Kelly warned again, more forcefully this time.

"Yeah, I did," Murdock answered flatly, holding his stare. "Why do you ask?"

The smirk turned to a full smile, and he leaned back. Margaret set her fork down and put her head in her hand. "Oh, I was just wondering," Randy said.

Murdock watched him for a moment longer, then turned his attention back to his meal. For a few seconds, it was quiet. Then the punch line came. "So how does it feel to be a baby-killer?"

Face's response was quicker than Murdock's. "_Excuse _me?"

Randy ignored him. As Murdock looked up, they locked eyes again. He forced himself to take a breath, clenching his jaw so hard it hurt. Randy smirked as he continued. "Ever drop a shitload of Napalm on a village full of women and children just so you could watch 'em burn?"

"Randy!" Kelly cried.

"Actually, you never got to see much from the air," Murdock said quietly. His voice was ice cold, eyes dead. "It was mostly just the smell of burned flesh. But I did see plenty of photos. One I was particularly fond of was a friend of mine holding up this guy's skin by the side of -"

Kelly stood abruptly and grabbed Murdock's arm. "Murdock, will you give me a hand in the kitchen please?" It wasn't really a request. She was pulling him out of his chair before she'd even finished speaking.

Murdock didn't continue, and didn't answer her. They disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Face and Randy to stare at each other. But before either said a word, Mrs. Stevens spoke up again. "So, Mr. Ranger." Her voice was full of nervous tension, but she smiled as she looked up at Face. "What is it you do for a living?"

*X*X*X*

"What the _hell _was that all about?" Murdock demanded angrily as soon as the swinging door shut behind him.

"That was Randy," Kelly said quietly. "He's always like that."

Murdock stared at her. Was she kidding? "He's always like that? So that excuses it?"

She stared at him, eyes full of worry, hands making nervous fists in the fabric of her sweater. "You promised you wouldn't do this."

"Do what?" he demanded. "I promised to be normal and that was a normal reaction!"

"You promised to try! To try and make a good impression!"

"I did _not _start that!"

"You're supposed to be different than him! _You_ promised. Not him."

He gestured behind him, towards the door. "What am I supposed to say that would be more polite and acceptable? 'I'm sorry, I'm afraid you've got me confused with some other soldier whose country _did_ drop napalm on villages full of women and children?'"

She swallowed noticeably, clenching her sweater even tighter. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Okay? For him. But you've got to-"

"No," he interrupted her. "It's not okay. What the hell is his problem?"  
>"Randy is…" She trailed off, her eyes dropping to the floor. Murdock didn't speak, but his eyes narrowed as he watched her. Just how many times had she found herself apologizing for him and how he acted? He had a feeling this was nowhere near the first time.<p>

"He's my brother," she finally managed, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "What do you want me to say? He's mean? He's a drunk? He enjoys hurting people?"

Murdock's fists clenched and released a few times as he turned and paced away from her. He wasn't angry at her. He shouldn't be taking it out on her. That would never end well. A few steps, then he turned and looked back, leaning on the counter. "You could've at least warned me, Kelly," he finally said, irritated.

"I did."

"No, you didn't. I had to hear it from your brother-in-law and I assumed if it was really that big of a deal I would've heard it from _you_."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He stared at her for a moment, and realized that what he was feeling right now went way beyond Randy's words. "Are you trying to sabotage me?" he asked, genuinely hurt. "Because when you don't give me all the pieces, how am I supposed to protect myself, let alone you? If you knew he's like this..."

When she meet his eyes the confusion and hurt was evident in her tears. "You're the only man I have _ever_ let meet my family. This is all new to me. I..." She stopped and wiped at the tears now rolling down her cheeks.

"Well, why would you fail to mention something so important?"

She shook her head, and lowered it, chewing on her bottom lip as she hugged herself tighter and tried to stop crying. After watching her for a moment, he dropped his head and let his chin bounce on his chest. Damn it, she was stressed and worried and overwhelmed and he'd known that from the word "go." Of course she hadn't sabotaged him. She'd been too overwhelmed and forgot. It was a horrible thing to forget, but she had no reason to sabotage.

He sighed deeply, and took a few steps toward her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her close. "Don't cry, Kelly, come on..." It wasn't that he minded the tears so much. This much stress could make anyone cry. It was the fact that there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it right now. She needed to get through this. That meant keeping it together. It meant not crumbling into a sobbing mess in the kitchen right smack in the middle of dinner. Damn it, he needed to be more careful about what he said around here.

She let herself be pulled into the embrace, into him. She was hesitant at first. Stiff, like she was unsure if she could relax. She softened as he rubbed her back slowly, drawing his other hand up over her hair to smooth it back. In between silent sobs she whispered into his neck, "Please, Murdock... I need you to do this for me, I just can't."

She stopped speaking and wrapped her arms tight around him, as if trying to absorb his strength. "Relax, Kelly. Please." He pulled away just slightly and tipped her chin up so he could meet her eyes. "Please?"

She sniffled, and nodded, and tried to wipe away the tears.

"We've only got a couple more hours of this and then they'll all go back to the motel for the night, right?" He didn't bother looking at the clock. He already knew it would tell them that they weren't even half finished with the evening. Nor did he bring up the fact that this was only day one of four. She didn't need to think about that.

She nuzzled her face into his neck again and took slow deep breaths until she had control. "I'm sorry Murdock. I should have said something. I just have so much going on. I can't even think straight."

"It's okay." It wasn't really okay. He sighed as he turned his head and kissed her hair.

"I'm so sorry."

"I know. Just relax, okay? And I'll just -" Hell, how _was _he going to deal with this? Because he was pretty sure the comments wouldn't stop. "- try to ignore Randy. Okay? Does that work?"

She looked up at him and tried to smile, but it was a weak attempt at best. "If you figure out some way to make him stop, let me know."

He smiled reassuringly, and tucked her hair behind her ear as he leaned forward to kiss her gently, his lips moving slowly over hers. She sighed softly as she melted into him. "In a couple of hours, he'll be gone." The hand on her back slid lower, and around to her hip as he let his mouth work on hers, calming her. "Then you can take a nice hot bath and relax. Yeah?"

The tears had stopped, but he still wasn't one hundred percent sure she'd pulled it all together yet. When the kiss finally broke, she looked up at him and smiled a little more. "That sounds like heaven right now."

He smiled more fully. "Complete with your own personal angel. I'll even play a harp for you if you want, but I can't promise that your ears won't bleed."

She let out a soft laugh and then looked at the door and sighed deeply. "I guess we should get back before they come looking for us."

"Yeah."

Before she let him go, she have him a quick kiss on the lips. "Thank you."

It was clear that that was for more than putting up with her family. He smiled, and nodded, then slipped his hands into his pockets before turning and following her back to the dining room.


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

**1985**

Face was keeping a watchful eye on Randy, who was congregated with his father and uncles near the entryway to the kitchen. It was something of a clique, it seemed. In fact, the older man hadn't given anyone else - not even Kelly - so much as a second glance. He was here for the company of his brothers; that much was perfectly evident. But Randy, drunk as hell and not even bothering to try and hide it, was looking for a fight with anyone or anything who'd step up.

It was interesting to see how the other little cliques had formed. Margaret and her mother and Aunt Ellen; and Andrew was usually with them. The aunts in two main groups. The older cousins mixed among each other, but not with the older or younger generations. The younger cousins were segregated, male and female, and further into two groups: one that was happy to be here and one that appeared thoroughly miserable. But at least, for the most part, the attention seemed to be off of Murdock.

Kelly was tending animals. Running a veterinary practice out of her home made that a legitimate excuse to step away. It gave Murdock a break, too. Whether or not she actually needed help was not important. He needed to help her. He needed a break.

"Hi." Face gave a perfect, charming smile as he stepped close to the attractive blonde who was practically drowning herself in her glass of wine. "I don't think we've been properly introduced."

The look on her face was a quick-changing slideshow of emotions – so fast it was almost hard to decipher them. His read was fast, but reliable; he trusted it. Startled, then fearful, relieved, suspicious, worried, curious, wary. "You're Murdock's friend," she said, as if that was the only thing she needed to know.

He extended a hand, crouching in on her personal space a little, just to see how she'd react. "Joseph Ranger."

She didn't move back, eyes raking him up and down. "Stacie Lipowski."

"Polish name?" He shook hands with her.

"Very, actually." She was still entirely distrusting, but the question had earned him points. He could tell by the slight change in her posture.

"Tell me something Stacie." The uneasy tone that filtered into his voice was unnatural, but he played it smoothly. "What am I missing here?"

She raised a brow. "Missing?" It was somewhere between an innocent question and a blatant challenge.

"Yeah. You see, I can't seem to figure out why everyone is so…" He paused, searching for a word. "So tense. I mean, my family get-togethers are as stressful as the next person's but this just seems so… I don't know… uncomfortable."

She smiled. It was a front. A challenge. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Hmm. Maybe it was the comment at dinner."

"Randy doesn't speak for everyone," she said flatly, her smile falling.

"Well no one seemed real anxious to speak for themselves."

"Kelly's family was against the war."

"The war was fifteen years ago."

"Some scars last longer than fifteen years."

"Some last forever. But I don't see what that has to do with Murdock. Or the fact that he's in love with your best friend."

She eyed him for a long moment, but there was distinctly less hostility in her tone when she continued. "The fact that he was in Vietnam means nothing to me. That's her family's problem, not mine."

"So what's your problem?"

It was direct. Maybe too direct. Part of him was fully expecting her to shut down on him. But she didn't. Instead, she put her head back and smirked at him, crossing her arms loosely with her empty glass hanging between her fingers. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He smirked. It was a challenge. And one he'd been waiting for. "Yes, I would. Do you have any suggestions for how I might pry it out of you?" he asked smoothly.

She raised a brow, then uncrossed her arms, holding up her glass. "You might start by getting me another glass of wine."

He laughed. He knew where this was going. Randy was standing in the kitchen right by that wine. She hadn't been near it since he'd positioned himself there. Part of Randy's attention was on the conversation he seemed to be having with his father. The other part was focused intently on Face. Face could feel it – like eyes on him.

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire," he chuckled.

She offered her glass, brow raised, not speaking.

Face took the glass, letting his fingers brush hers a little longer than strictly necessary. It was subtle, but she noticed. He could tell by the flash in her eyes. He turned toward the kitchen with a grin. The bait was cast.

He stepped past Randy, grabbed the uncorked bottle of cheap wine off the counter, and refilled her glass and then his.

"Hey."

He glanced up as Randy stepped in closer, crouching in on his personal space. Unaffected by the intrusion, Face merely smiled. "Hmm?"

"What do you think you're doing?"

Face stared at him, feigning confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Stay away from Stacie," Randy threatened. "You hear me?"

Face laughed, setting the bottle back down. "Very direct. I appreciate that."

"She doesn't need to be getting mixed up with your kind."

"My kind?" Face raised a brow.

"You know what I mean."

Face didn't know where Randy was keeping the liquor – probably in his pocket; Kelly had been adamant that only wine would be permitted at this gathering – but his breath reeked of it. Ignoring the threat, Face smiled and nodded. "How about we let Stacie determine what she needs, hmm?" He picked up the glasses, one in each hand. "It's my experience that women are pretty good at determining which men can keep up with them and," he gave a blatant glance up and down Randy's large frame, "which men can't."

Randy moved. Face was faster. He sidestepped the attempt to spill the drinks and leaned in to speak quietly into Randy's ear, dangerously close. "Hundred bucks says if you get me kicked out of this party, she comes home with me."

Face pulled back, smiled, waited for the answering threat. None came. Randy was fuming, but he was keeping it to himself. With a quiet chuckle, Face took a step back, then turned away. He crossed the room without interruption and offered Stacie her glass again.

"What was that about?" She sounded amused.

"Oh, just the usual… territory marking."

She sighed. "He never did quite understand the 'no trespassing' signs that were already on the territory he supposedly claimed."

Face took a sip of the wine. "Try 'trespassers will be shot'. It's more effective."

She looked him up and down slowly. He noticed it, and stood still, smiling at her appraisal. Confidence was never his problem; she'd like what she saw. "I don't have a gun," she finally answered. Face caught the innuendo by the way her gaze lingered near his waist. "For some reason, that tends to make a difference when you threaten. At least when you threaten people like Randy."

He watched her eyes as she looked back up at him, brows raised, waiting for his response. He grinned as he took another sip from his glass. "You can use mine if you'd like."

"Is it for sale? Or just for rent?"

"I'd like to retain ownership, if that's what you're asking. I'm rather attached to it."

She sipped her wine. "Good. I'd rather not have the maintenance responsibility."

"Is that your way of suggesting that I'm high maintenance?"

"You could be," she shrugged. "You look it."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Is that your way of suggesting that you _don't _require maintenance?"

He hesitated. "I think everybody needs some degree of maintenance. I wouldn't call mine 'high'."

She looked him up and down again, then took another sip of wine before setting it aside. "Would you like to go for a walk?"

"Absolutely." He set his own glass aside and slipped a hand behind her back as he guided her towards the back door.

**1968**

When Jonathan went home, it should've made Murdock very happy. For one thing, Jon was happy, and Murdock was happy for him. But maybe more importantly, it meant that there was a slot open for another AC. But the "promotion" Murdock had been expecting hadn't come.

Murdock bit his tongue as they put nineteen-year-old Mark Perrin in that position. But Perrin had only lasted a week and a half before he got himself shot up. At that point, Murdock was done biting his tongue. He'd had enough. Emboldened by frustration and restlessness, he walked into his commanding officer's quarters with his shoulders back and his head high.

"Sir!"

His CO, Captain James Paulsoto, was one of the calmest, most even-keel men Murdock had ever met. Murdock had never heard him so much as raise his voice. In casual conversation or crisis, he held the same, impassive expression. At thirty-five, he was already completely grey, but being in an active warzone had kept him fit and young-looking in spite of it.

For his part, Murdock was at this moment the very image of an Air Force officer, and he knew it. It was exactly what he wanted his CO to see. He _was _an officer. He was also the best damn pilot in the service. Supply runs were more than beneath him; they were a waste of his skills. And making him fly right side was just as senseless.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" He was going to get what he wanted, and right now to do that he needed to play the Air Force way. Formalities. If he played it by the book, he couldn't go wrong.

"Go ahead."

Murdock had been keeping his eyes forward locked on a spot on the far wall, just like he had been trained to. But now he looked "Paulie" right in the eye. May as well get straight to the point. "I am one of the best pilots on this base." Actually, he was _the _best pilot. But no need to point that out at the moment. "How come I'm still flying milk runs?"

"Because on this base, it is part of our job to supply local bases with whatever it is they need."

"It's also part of our job to transport teams and do extractions."

"You can fly with any AC who wants to take you. Your problem is you've burned your bridges with most of them and they _won't_ take you."

Murdock's jaw tightened. Yes, he'd burned his bridges with a lot of the ACs. He didn't care then and he didn't care now. Flying a chopper wasn't about shooting civilians for fun. And he had absolutely no respect for the pilots who were flying while they were so high they couldn't even hold their hand out straight. Flying was supposed to be about who was the best - who could get their craft and their crew and cargo from point A to point B with the greatest efficiency. Here, it was about who could consistently keep everyone and everything in one piece while doing the jobs other guys were too scared to do. And there was _no _doubt in his mind, he could do that better than anyone else here.

"All the more reason to make me the AC," he said confidently. His voice was straight out of Officer's Training 101; he was great at imitations. "Then there is no need to worry about those bridges, Sir."

There was no immediate response. Paulie's expression was so hard to read, he gave nothing away. But Murdock was expecting that. He just waited patiently.

"And just what makes you think you'll be getting along any better with them if you've got your own chopper?" Paulie finally asked. Even in the flat calm of his tone, Murdock could hear the hint of challenge. "This is not a place for an individual to make himself the biggest and the best. We have a job to do and so far, you have failed to do step _one _of that job, which is to make yourself part of the coherent unit here."

There it was again. It had been around as long as he could remember; he didn't fit. He never had. But he'd never really thought would hold him back when it came to flying. In the Academy, he'd thought he had left that feeling of being ostracized behind. He was the best, in his classes and in the cockpit. They were all there for the same thing: to fly. He could do that better than any of them, but it never made him an outsider. It made him a challenge that other cadets had embraced.

In the Thunderbirds, he'd been surrounded by other pilots just like him: the best of the best. But, still, here it was again. The fact he was different – this time, that he was _better _than them – was keeping him back. This time, it had less to do with flying than personal morals and convictions. He had them. They did not. He wasn't willing to change that. He had learned to deal with being the outsider a long time ago; he could live with it. But here, in this place in this time, it set anger off in him. Here, it wasn't _right_!

"I was really wondering what you were gonna do when Jonathan went home. Because now you have to deal with those bridges you've burned."

How many teams were left behind, how many guys had died because he "burned bridges?" It was ridiculous – a waste on all levels. "I can sit here on base building bridges and learn how to play nice, keeping supplies safe," he said flatly. "Or I could be out there running the missions that no one else can, doing something that makes a difference. Saving soldiers." He paused, forcing himself to unclench his hands, forcing his voice to remain just as neutral as he had been taught, but it took an effort.

"What no one else can?" Paulie lit a cigarette, shaking his head. "Boy, you just don't get it, do you?"

"I don't have to prove anything. I just need a chance to _do_ what everyone here knows I'm capable of doing. Sir."

Paulie dropped his lighter on the desktop as he dragged deeply, then looked back up at Murdock. "You really think you're the best damn thing to hit this base, don't you?"

His jaw clenched tight as he fought to keep himself in check. "I don't know and, respectfully, Sir…" He took a deep breath, trying to subdue the edge that had crept into his voice. "Respectfully, Sir, I don't care. What I do know is that I could make ninety percent of the pickups that other ACs won't."

This wasn't about pride, or being the top of his class. This was about knowing what he could do, what he could make a chopper do. Murdock had learned how to fly not just by the book, but by the feel. He knew what his bird could do for him, just like his heart knew how to beat.

There was a long silence. Long enough for Paulie to finish most of his cigarette before he finally nodded. "Fine. I'll get you a bird."

As soon as he heard the words, Murdock's body snapped up to attention, there was no stopping it. His own bird. He could feel the adrenaline rush already, feel something inside of him come to life, tingling and aware. His own bird. _His_. He had to fight the urge to close his eyes in satisfaction. Finally another chance to do what he was born to, what he was meant to do.

"But I'll tell you what, Lieutenant." Paulie leaned forward and crushed the cigarette out. "One fuck up out there, just one, and I swear to God, you'll never fly again. You hear me?"

Murdock had to fight not to smile at that. Murdock might be a fuck up on _terra firma_, but he wasn't in the air. Head high, mind and body aware and fully focused, Murdock nodded to his CO. "Heard and understood, Sir."

"Now get out of here."

Murdock gave a textbook salute as Paulie waved him, then spun neatly on his heel, just like he was on the parade grounds. As soon as he was out of the door his eyes were on the sky and his face broke into a huge grin. He was going back to where he belonged.


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

**1968**

Murdock's eyes were on the large map pinned to the board in the TOC, but his mind had drifted. Feigning attention was something he was an expert at. It was a trick he had learned when he was a kid - let the words filter in without bothering to think or analyze them. When or if he needed them, they would be there, waiting.

The briefing was almost done. He knew what they needed from him and he knew he could do it. That was all that really mattered in the long run. Another drop – this one, interestingly, into Cambodia. There was a part of him that found that hilarious. All the effort put into publicizing the fact that they were not in Cambodia, and yet here they were, receiving a mission briefing for a drop there.

The irony was beautiful.

The sound of papers being shuffled and chairs scraping the concrete floor alerted him to the fact that the meeting was over. With a grin and nods to the men around him, Murdock pushed his hands into his pockets and strolled out the door and into the drenching rain. Monsoons again. Wet and hot and humid. Most of the men spent at least a few hours of every day complaining.

Nothing could dampen Murdock's mood.

He was AC, in charge and in control of his chopper and crew. He had final say over everything that happened during their missions. The thrill of knowing that he was in command was in some ways even more intense then the rush of piloting a jet fighter. As AC, he was doing more than tempting gravity; he was entrusted with keeping the crew and soldiers safe. There was no denying the sense of accomplishment and achievement he felt every time he safely unloaded troops. Better yet was the fact that he was doing it on his terms.

The sound of children's laughter stopped him. It was an unusual to hear, but somehow fitting for him mood. Just like him, the Yard kids on the base seemed to enjoy being out in the rain. Leaning up against the battered wall of a hootch, he watched as a smiling, laughing group of boys and girls chased a mangy dog in circles in the mud. They hadn't been here long - just recently pulled out of the burned out remains of their village. Every one of them was an orphan now; everything they'd had was lost to war and violence. But still, here they were, enjoying what little they had found.

That resilience spoke to him. Despite everything they had seen and been through, they were trying to thrive; they had hope. Hope that he was, in part, responsible for giving them. It was another thing in a long list of accomplishments he had made in the military, another thing that added to the pride he felt when he put his uniform on.

There had been no real direction or goal in his childhood past surviving. At least not until the first time he sat in a plane. It was a Boeing-Stearman Model 75 Kaydet - Mr. Ted's modified biplane. Just like the one the Red Baron had used. He remembered distinctly the sound she had made her wheels left Earth. In that split second, Murdock's life had changed. He knew what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to be. His life, what and who he was all become clear in the sky. When his hands touched the controls, he knew she would do just what he wanted her to do.

Even then, as a skinny fifteen-year-old kid, Murdock realized he understood her in a way that no one else did. Just the way the plane and the sky understood him, when no one on the ground could ever really see him. Every single moment since then was spent in pursuit of becoming a pilot. Not just any pilot, but the best pilot - flying anything and everything he could, better faster and further then anyone else. And he had done just that.

No matter how many people told him he couldn't do it, he'd made it to the US Air Force Academy. And once there, he had been the best. Every honor he was eligible for, he made sure he got. Top marks in his classes, top scores in the sky. He studied harder and flew better then all of them. He even worked at his PT more than the rest of the pilots. He could run faster and further than all of them. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. The Air Force had accepted him and, in return, he shined for them.

Every patch on his uniform, every ribbon, every pin, _meant_ something to him. Something well beyond just a rank or an accolade; they were physical proof - tangible reminders - of everything he had done and made of himself. Not even ten years ago, he had been flat broke and sleeping in an alley. Now he was in charge of millions of dollars of equipment and men's lives. There was no denying the deep sense of pride he felt at that. The Air Force, the military in general, had given him a brotherhood. A bond to the people around him - something he had never had before. And his record, full of commendations and awards, was a direct testament to how much that meant to him.

He wasn't done yet, not by a long shot. Thanks to the Apollo program there was a whole new level for him to reach - all the way past the sky and into space. Once he was done in Vietnam, he was going back to the World to be a test pilot. It was a dangerous job, but he knew he could handle it. As long as it had wings, he was good to go. Once he conquered test piloting, he was going to apply for the astronaut program. By the time he finished training, he was sure the US would already have made it to the moon, and he was going to make it there, too. The fact that in order to do that, he would pretty much have to be strapped to a big flying bomb made it that much more exciting to him. To reach space would take everything he had, everything he knew he could give - the ultimate challenge. If the sky felt like home, then outer space must feel like heaven.

Drinking, drugs, or whoring couldn't hold an appeal like that. Nothing could. And all he had to do was keep being himself. Thanks to the Air Force, being himself was finally a good thing. There was no need to hide the things that made him an outsider as a kid. His love of math and physics was encouraged. Throwing himself into a project to the point of excluding everything around him was needed and nurtured. Same as the way he spent his down time reading up on the latest and newest aeronautic development and feats. The fact that he talked to his aircrafts, knowing that they had personalities all of their own, was accepted without question. And if anyone found it odd that he could sit still and silent for hours, working over a maneuver, a question, or a design in his head until it all just clicked into place (at which point he would usually jump up and howl with triumph), no one ever said a word to him about it. Why would they? He was the best. And if his mind worked a little differently then theirs, so be it. So long as he could produce the results, they accepted his methods.

There was a loud splash and a couple of loud giggles as one of the Yard boys tripped and went careening into a puddle. The look of shock turned to joy as the boy realized he had finally caught the dog. Murdock joining in the laughter. He had to admit, they made playing in the mud looked like a lot of fun and he was always up for a little bit of fun. Pushing of the wall he walked over the filthy wet, muddy kids. The mutt had just managed to wiggle out of the boys arms as Murdock made it to the group. One command of "sit" in poorly accented Vietnamese was all it took to have the dog sitting and panting at him in obedience and the kids giggling at his accent. Crouching down he nodded at the dog.

"Okay."

Murdock knew the dog would come to him; animals always liked him. His only miscalculation was the velocity at which the dog launched himself into his arms. Tumbling over backwards with the momentum of the over excited hound, Murdock hit the mud with a spectacular sploosh, drenching himself and everyone in a ten foot radius with thick, wet mud. His loud laughter, made it clear in any language that he found the situation hilarious. That was all it took for the kids to join in. Accepting him into their game, their howls of laughter joined his.

**1985**

The two dogs were running circles around each other and around the ten-year-old boy. Murdock watched from just inside the back door as they played in the quickly dimming light. An involuntary smile crept across his face. He couldn't tell who was happier – Homer and the lab or Kelly's nephew.

A sound behind him made him turn, and he exchanged brief glances with Kelly. "Hey."

"Hi."

She smiled softly as she approached, stopping behind him. He looked back out into the yard, raising his glass and taking a sip of Coke. She held his arms as she pressed against his back, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades.

"You okay?" she whispered.

He took a drink from the can in his hand and forced a smile even though he knew she couldn't see it. "Envying Homer, at the moment."

She laughed quietly, running her hands from his shoulders all the way down to his elbows. "Almost everyone's gone for the night."

"Good."

"Mmm hmm." She paused. "They'll be back around noon tomorrow. But tomorrow's easier. It'll be outside and I basically just put on a huge pot of soup and refill it throughout the day. People eat when they want, and it's come and go, so everyone won't be here at once. More people, though. A few more friends of the family who live nearby."

Murdock kept his groan to himself. Instead, he merely sighed as he turned to face her, sliding his arms around her waist. "This is going well, right?" he asked. It was a genuine question, filled with concern.

She smiled tightly and nodded. "Yes. It is."

He sighed, reaching up to touch the side of her face lightly. "I gotta be honest with you, Kelly. I dunno if I can keep this up for three more days. I feel like a puppet or something."

"I'm sorry," she sighed.

"I understand why. I just…" He studied her carefully. "Just tell me I'm not going to have to do this forever?"

She shook her head. "No. I promise."

"How often do you do these get-togethers?"

"Like this? Twice a year."

He considered it carefully. Four days, twice a year. Maybe he could handle that. Maybe he was just blowing it all out of proportion. But it really _was _tough to watch every move he made and every word he said. It wasn't even like he could just adopt a character, a persona. He had to be _him_… but sane, and unaffected by anything that came at him. It should've been easy. But he found himself second guessing every thought that crossed his mind.

She sighed, reading his reaction. "I'm sorry, Murdock."

He tipped his head, a concerned expression on his face. "What I wanna know is if it's even _possible _to gain their approval."

"It is possible. We did eventually come to accept Drew." She smiled faintly. "But we were as skeptical of him as they are of you."

"Skeptical?"

"Scrutinizing," she corrected. "He had some of same strikes against him."

"You mean he was Army."

She hesitated. "My dad met him by accident pretty early on. But the rest of us… By the time we met him, Margie was pregnant with his baby." Kelly frowned deeply. "It scared the life out of me when I found out he was from the military." She lowered her head. "I know now, but back then? I'd heard so many horror stories. People going off the deep end when they came back."

_Speaking of the military…_ "Why didn't you ever say anything about it?" he asked, curious.

"About what?"

He watched her carefully. "You knew right from the start about me. My service, my record, hell, my diagnoses – plural. I never tried to hide any of it." He watched her as she shifted nervously. "You even knew about the team. If there was anything to be afraid of, I'd think we would _all _qualify for it. Why didn't you ever even tell me that it bothered you? I didn't have any idea…"

"Because I like you."

The wording made him pause. "I like you too," he answered carefully.

She smiled softly. "You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

He should. But this whole charade was making him second guess himself and everything around him. She didn't escape that questioning. She studied him for a long moment, then reached up and took his face in both hands. His arms circled her tighter as she stood on her toes and brushed his lips with hers, testing lightly before she finally kissed him. He returned it, slowly, deeply, and some of the tension eased out of his shoulders as her tongue caressed his. She pulled close to him, pressing her hands flat against his back, and ground her hips on his. Almost instantly, he felt the blood pooling in his groin.

He was the one to pull away, with a quiet smile. "Okay, you made your point." She licked her lips as she smiled up at him, pressing close for one last moment before he took a step back, away from her. "We'll talk more about this later. Yeah?"

She nodded, and touched the side of his face, tracing his lips with her thumb. "Yeah."

"Kelly? Honey?"

Kelly pulled back as the swinging door to the kitchen opened and her mother stepped in. Murdock let her go. For just a moment, the woman paused, surveying the scene quickly. Murdock felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Do you have a towel, honey?" she finally asked. "Aunt Ellen spilled her drink."

Though she was talking to Kelly, her eyes lingered on Murdock. He smiled knowingly. At least now he understood what he was up against. He was going to have to work on her.

As Kelly hurried to clean up the spill, her mother remained in the doorway, studying him curiously. It wasn't threatening or even overt. All the same, he had the distinct impression that she was sizing him up. "Where did your friend disappear to?" she questioned after she was through. "I haven't seen him in a while."

Murdock wasn't sure what she was hinting at, but he smiled comfortably nonetheless. "I'm sure he's around." Actually, he suspected that wherever Stacie was, Face wouldn't be far.

"Last time I saw him, he was with Stacie," she said.

Shit, she was fishing for something. Murdock wasn't sure what. He kept his smile in place as he slipped his hands into his pockets. "That's probably still where he is if I had to guess."

"Hmm." It was all she offered before turning away, letting the door close behind her.

Murdock let out a deep breath and dropped his head forward, into his hands. He didn't like this game – not one bit.


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**1985**

The leisurely walk had taken Face and Stacie almost all the way around the perimeter of Kelly's property. Outside, in the cool calm of the sunset, it was far quieter, more peaceful, and much less tense than it was in the house. Stacie was clearly in no great hurry to get back. And Face wasn't about to push. He was enjoying her company too much.

"So were you a soldier, too?" Stacie asked, filling the silence with what seemed to be an innocent question. "Or was that offense purely on behalf of your friend?"

Face grinned. "I thought that was a taboo subject."

"Only around Randy."

He glanced briefly at her. He could tell a lot about a person by the way they walked. She had her hands in her pockets, shoulders back, looking around. She was confident and making every attempt to appear comfortable. But he could still feel her scrutiny.

"What the hell was that about, anyways?" Face asked. "I haven't heard stuff like that since the early seventies."

"Well, he couldn't talk about it much in the seventies. He was in Canada."

"Ah." Face chuckled.

"The whole family was pretty active in the anti-war movement." She glanced at him, curiously. "Including Kelly, you should know."

Face was surprised, but he controlled how much of that surprise he let show. "Really?"

"You didn't know that."

He smiled. "I don't know Kelly very well. But I've never heard anything like that come from her."

"You won't." She looked away from him again, kicking a rock down the dirt trail. "She was against the war, but she was horrified by the treatment of the soldiers coming back. She and Margaret both changed their tune after the fact. Randy never did."

"Still seems like a long time to hold a grudge."

She laughed. "Yeah, well. Poor thing was very traumatized by the experience of evading the draft." The bitter sarcasm in her voice made Face smirk, just slightly. "It's a tragic story, to hear him tell it. He had to run for his life. Lost his girlfriend, his job, his comfortable lifestyle. He's still pissy about it, fifteen years later."

"My heart bleeds," Face said dryly.

She smirked. "I'm sure it does."

They paused at the edge of the trees, and her shoulders sagged a little as she stared at the house in the clearing.

"You don't seem too anxious to get back," he observed. No harm in pointing out the obvious.

"If ever there was a man I hated being around, it's Randy."

"Well, I don't think he likes me very much." Face shrugged. "Why don't you let me run interference for you?"

She raised a brow at him. "Don't you have to do that for your friend?"

Face smirked. "I think I can handle a bit of multitasking. Especially when it revolves around the same idiot."

"Now that's talent."

"It's one of many talents."

"Really? What are some of the others?"

He grinned as he leaned closer to her, lowering his voice to speak softly into her ear. "Wouldn't you like to know."

**1968**

The flight had gone off without a hitch. Not that Murdock expected anything less. The part that was really important – the part that made him smile – was the fact that it had actually meant something. He had just pulled off an emergency extract of a Special Forces team. That was a win in _any _book.

The LZ had been hot. They had all known that the second the team popped smoke, Charlie would be all over them. And they were right. Adam, Murdock's brand spanking new copilot, had looked like he was going pass out at the sight of the tracers on the bullets that came at them. Probably up 'til now, the biggest battle that kid had been through was trying to get to second base with his girl.

The second he tried to land, Charlie was going to open up and mow down grunts and pilots alike. And that was just the sort of thing that would put a black mark on Murdock's record. He couldn't have that. So when he'd radioed the team, he'd told them to pop the smoke and throw a Hail Mary pass as far north of the LZ as they could, but to hold their position. To their credit, they didn't ask questions, they just acted. As soon as the smoke grenade landed, Charlie was swarming. Murdock had his guys out of the south corner of the LZ and was back in the air with a howl of triumph before Charlie could figure out what had happened.

They made it back to base in record time. When they had finished up and taken care of the paperwork, he shot Adam a look. God, the kid was a baby. He probably didn't even shave yet. That didn't really bother Murdock. Just meant he was going to get to mold him into a fine pilot. Patting the kid on the shoulder, Murdock grinned at him.

"Come on, you look like you need a drink."

Adam insisted on changing first. Murdock went ahead to the bar. If the copilot wasn't there in half an hour, Murdock would go get him and drag him out. He was really going to have to come up with a name for the kid. Maybe Opie? It seemed to fit with the whole Mayberry image he had. The kid was afraid; he needed a little time around the men to relax.  
>There was beer in the refrigerator, but Murdock opted for Kool-aid, sitting down at the makeshift plywood "bar" beside one of the Special Forces guys. The team would only be there for a few nights, if that. They'd come and gone before, using this base.<p>

"Someone on your team's got a pretty good arm," Murdock offered – the prerequisite small talk just to establish common ground.

The man sitting next to him threw back a shot of whatever liquor was in that bottle on the table. He looked like he'd come from the debriefing straight to the bar. His fatigues were soaked with sweat and mud. Murdock did a double take as he realizes that those dark splotches weren't just mud. The man had blood all over him. Murdock fought back the urge to shiver at that. What kind of person – soldier or not – would be okay with that? Not that he was judging; it simply wasn't his place to judge. But the concept simply boggled his mind. How hardened did a man have to be when something like that didn't even bother him?

Hardened or not, he broke into a smile as he recognized Murdock. "Pilot, right?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Fuck the arm, that was some damn good flying! Did we even take a single hit outta there?"

Murdock grinned. "A few."

Three, to be exact. And Murdock knew the precise location of every bullet. His first order of business when he'd arrived back on base was to check his baby over and kiss her wounds. She'd be able to be patched up just fine.

"First Lieutenant HM Murdock," he offered, extending his hand. "I don't think I got your name."

"James Harrison." His grip was looser than Murdock had been expecting. Maybe because he was drunk. Could somebody _get _drunk that fast? They'd just arrived about a half hour ago. "Call me Cruiser."

"Good to meet you." Murdock noticed the lack of rank – both in his words and on his fatigues – but it didn't matter much here.

Cruiser leaned forward and grabbed the bottle of clear booze off the table. "Here, lemme pour you a drink. You saved our asses; it's the least I can do."

Murdock smiled back politely, not offering his tin cup. "I appreciate it, man, but I don't drink."

The answering stare from Cruiser was nothing short of stunned disbelief. "You're serious?"

Murdock was used to that look. He didn't let it faze him. He simply shrugged and moved on. Better that way, all the way around. "So how long you been here?"

It took Cruiser a moment longer to figure out what to do when bonding over alcohol wasn't an option. In the end, he poured another shot, threw it back, and breathed out slowly as he let it burn down his throat. "Still breathing, so not long enough."

Murdock laughed. "I thought the goal was to stay alive."

"Well, I figure me and Uncle Sam have a difference of opinion on the matter."

"Eh. You're worth more alive, I think." Murdock took a sip of Kool-aid. "Dead men can't pay taxes."

Cruiser shrugged. "Fuck taxes. Dead men can't kill other men. And that's about all any of us are good for - killing and dying."

Murdock raised a brow. It was those sort of generalized statements – made without thought and considerations for different specialties – that made Murdock realize just how limited the worldview of some soldiers had become. Murdock wasn't there for killing men. He wasn't there to _be_ killed, either. Uncle Sam had sent him to Vietnam not to kill, but to save lives. To rescue people his troops. If enemy died in the process of that, well and good. But that certainly wasn't what he'd come here for.

"So what do you do?" Murdock asked.

Cruiser raised a brow, questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"You guys have specialties, right?"

He looked away and threw back another shot. "Medic," he finally answered.

Murdock blinked in frank shock. Of all the answers he could have heard, that was not one he'd been expecting. Of course, maybe that did have something to do with his outlook on life here. It was hard to cheat death from such close proximity, and Murdock had no way of knowing just whose blood was on Cruiser's fatigues. He wasn't about to ask.

"You have to do a lot of training for that?"

"Yup."

The open invitation for further conversation on the topic was ignored. Apparently, Cruiser didn't want to talk about "work." Not that there was a whole lot out here besides "work." Murdock hesitated a long moment before trying again. "So you have family back home?"

Another shot. "Sister."

Cruiser apparently held his liquor well. No telling how many he'd had before Murdock arrived. With how fast he was throwing them back, he'd probably had at least four or five. Murdock waited for more on the sister, but it never came. The other thing that was starting to become very apparent to him was the fact that Cruiser didn't talk much. Murdock was running out of conversation starters.

"Alright, man," Cruiser finally said, saving him the awkwardness of trying a third time. "So you come in here and drink fuckin' Kool-aid?"

Murdock smiled. "Beats the taste of the water here, any day of the week."

Cruiser stared at him for a moment. "You do know that tequila has a leg up on that shit any day of the week, right?"

Murdock paused for a moment. "I really don't see the point in tequila," he said reflectively. "Or any kind of alcohol, for that matter. I'm happy without it."

Cruiser set his elbows on the table, his head sinking down level with his shoulders as he looked at Murdock again. That same disbelieving look from earlier was back. "Okay, Murdock. I officially don't know what the fuck to say to you."

Murdock laughed. "Would you be surprised to hear that's normal?"

"Not at all."

Murdock grinned, and finished the rest of red Kood-aid in the tin cup. "So where you stationed? Anyplace in particular?"

Cruiser shook his head, pushing himself up again and turning so that he was facing Murdock. "Vietnam."

He didn't bother explaining that any further. They were back to no conversation. Murdock glanced away, then back down at his now-empty cup. "I think I'm gonna go crash for a while. This has been one hell of a day." He grinned broadly. He had no problem whatsoever with how this day had panned out.

"Later, man."

Murdock clapped Cruiser's shoulder as he passed, heading for the door. "Congrats again on a job well done. Pleasure working with you."

*X*X*X*

"Nicely played, Mr. Ranger."

Face smiled, and waited for Stacie to adjust her skirt before leaning in to kiss her again. His hands moved to her shirt, slowly fastening the buttons for her as he pulled gently at her lower lip. "Thank you," he whispered. "That was very enjoyable."

"Indeed." Her fingers played over his shoulders, through his shirt, down his arms. "We should do this again sometime."

Face smiled knowingly. "I'm sure that could be arranged."

"Where are you staying?"

"The motel up the road. Where pretty much everyone else at this gathering is staying."

"You can stay here, if you'd like."

Face considered it briefly. "I may take you up on that tomorrow. But for tonight, all of my things are back at the motel."

She smiled. "Just thought I would offer. The bed is probably more comfortable here."

"And includes better company." He traced her jaw, and let the barest tips of his fingers brush her lips. "Ask me again tomorrow and I promise I'll say yes."

"What if the offer isn't available tomorrow?"

"Then you'd break my heart. But I'd still have to decline tonight."

She laughed. "You get broken hearted easily?"

The smile that answered her was well-practiced. "You could always try it and find out. Though it may be more enjoyable for both of us if you didn't."

She ran a hand down his side. "I suppose we should get back before they start wondering where we are."

"We should," he agreed, tracing along her neck, back into her hair. "Once they start wondering, they might start speculating."

"Heaven forbid."

Her smile made the sarcasm lighthearted and warm. He responded in kind and kissed her once more before turning and offering her a hand, leading her back towards the house.


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

**1968**

Murdock could've refused the mission. A number of others already had, and he was under no obligation to take it. It was too dangerous, and there was little chance of success to begin with. But it was excitement, and a challenge, and that was reason enough to accept it. It was a resupply, but this one was a bit different. They were resupplying a company that had been reduced to 38 men, staged in the middle of three regiments of NVA soldiers. Their dead and wounded needed to be med-evaced; they were nearly out of ammunition and food.

Murdock was fidgeting as they loaded the chopper, watching Opie (the name had stuck), and the area around them. His mind was wandering, jonesing for that adrenaline fix. Finally, they were in the air. As hard as he tried, Murdock couldn't quite pay attention to the mission. Flying this bird was as natural as breathing; he didn't need to think about it. And there was no need to stress over the mission until they actually got to a place worth stressing over.

He found that place as he hovered over the spot they were supposed to set down in. "That's it?" Opie asked.

Murdock checked his maps again. "That's it."

The trapped company was on a rise where the constant artillery and air strikes had blown away all the trees. There was no cover. There was nothing but a ring of foxholes no more than a hundred feet in diameter.

"Ready?" Murdock asked.

Opie was staring at him. "There is no way in hell we are –"

"Oh, come on! We're already here! And they got wounded down there."

Did Murdock see the danger? Of course he did. Did he care? Hell no. He'd flown in and out of places like that untouched. Quick and easy. All they had to do was swap supplies for wounded. And there were wounded _dying _down there.

Maybe it was brave, or noble, on Murdock's part. But it didn't really fell like it. It felt more like restless apathy. Nervous by default – he would've had to have been insane _not _to be – and impatient to get on with it, he surveyed the area below as Opie circled.

The descent was quick, down to a battered spot on the ground. As he slowed to a hover, timing it perfectly, the tension was at a maximum. But nothing happened. No incoming, no one moving from the foxholes to unload the supplies.

"What the hell are they waiting for?" Murdock asked.

"They're waiting for all those guys in the trees to shoot this bird to shit," Opie answered low.

"They wait much longer they might get to see it!"

Finally, after an embarrassingly long moment without movement, several man ran up to the bird to unload. At the same time, others were carrying the wounded and dead. All the while, there was no gunfire, no sound over the circling blades of the chopper. It was almost surreal. Looking at the faces of the bloodied, wearied, filthy soldiers there, Murdock would've expected there to be a battle raging. But it was as if someone had simply put the movie on pause. There was nothing.

They were loaded. Murdock turned and shot a grin at Opie that said, without words, "See? I told you so."

The company commander was on the radio just as they began their ascent. "Looks like all is clear down-"

The sudden barrage of automatic weapons was deafeningly loud, and so sudden it literally made Murdock jump. In the confusion that followed, he realized he couldn't tell their own guns from the ones pointed at them. There was nothing but constant noise - the sound of the rifles firing and the bullets pinging on the chopper.

The farther they went, the more fire they seemed to take. Murdock kept glancing at the instruments; he was waiting for something to go wrong. But he didn't really realize just how badly it already _had _gone wrong until suddenly the bird lurched. He grabbed the controls instinctively, and glanced over at Opie at the same time that he realized what that warm, wet feeling on his arm was.

The shock of seeing his copilot's face half gone was interrupted by an invisible hammer that suddenly slammed into the back of his seat. There was no pain, only a flash of panic that was quickly overcome by protocol, awe, and complete and utter disbelief. He'd really been shot. He was really hit. Suddenly, he realized that he was going to die.

His right hand had been knocked off the cyclic and he had no feeling in it. He slammed his foot on the button for the intercom as he climbed dangerously fast. There was no thought. Instinct alone navigated the bird into evasive maneuvers. He was losing blood, but still, there was no pain. Habit had him cross checking the instruments even though he was sure that they'd be crashing soon.

Then the bullets stopped. Even when they were no longer being fired upon, Murdock was acutely aware of the amount of blood that was pouring down his arm, and how difficult it really was to pilot a chopper with only one arm. He felt like the witch of Oz. He was melting…

The chopper barely made it back to the base.

"Get him out of there!"  
>"Is he still alive?"<p>

"I've got one back here alive."

"Hey!"

Eyes out of focus, knuckles white around the controls that he couldn't seem to let go of, Murdock stared at the console, seeing nothing.

"Hey! Pilot!"

Fingers snapping in front of his face. He blinked, and followed the arm to an unfamiliar man. "Dude, we gotta get you out of here. You're bleeding pretty bad. You walk okay?"

Bleeding. He was bleeding.

"I'm bleeding?" That didn't sound like his voice. Of course he was bleeding. He knew that, didn't he?

"Yeah. Shit, come on, I'll help you."

He couldn't let go of the controls. He wanted to. But his hand wouldn't work. "Come on, man, just relax."

"I can't." Staring at his hand, he was completely incapable of loosening his grip. His joints ached; his knuckles felt like they were about to crack. Funny how he was more aware of that than the pain from a bullet wound.

Voices from the other side of the cockpit. "Give me a hand, here, will ya?"

He hoped they weren't talking to him.

"He alive?"

"No, he's way gone."

Very slowly, Murdock turned his head. Opie... There was only a mass of blood and brain matter where the side of his face had been. Murdock's eyes rolled back as he felt dizzy. He was going to be sick.

Pain. Cramped. Blackness. Where was he? Eyes open, he stared up at the light on the ceiling. Hospital? Not quite. Field hospital. More nausea. He shut his eyes and it passed.

"Lieutenant Murdock?"

Oh, hell. Someone was talking to him. Was he really supposed to be able to answer? He forced his eyes open and turned his head, staring at the man beside his bed until his eyes came into focus.

"How are you feeling, son?"

Son? He didn't even fucking know this man. But his uniform was a colonel, and Murdock held back the urge to tell him to fuck off. "I want a cigarette."

Before he even had a chance to think about the words coming out of his mouth, he had one, lit, between his lips. He dragged deeply, coughed and choked, and tried to ignore the pain as he put his head back. He hurt everywhere. He didn't want to be awake. He didn't want to think about why he'd been asleep.

"Opie," he mumbled, under his breath. He was barely able to form words.

"What?"

"Kid. Right side…"

"Your copilot didn't make it, son."

"Yeah, I know." That dry, scratchy voice was not his own. Who was he? "I saw him. The whole side of his face was blown off."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Fuck no, I don't remember what happened." The response was immediate. Instinctive. And he immediately looked back at the colonel as he attempted to backpedal. "Sorry, sir. I mean…"

"It's alright." The officer's voice was quiet, almost gentle. "I need you to try and remember."

"The back of the chopper…" He took another long drag. "Is Mack okay? He was the gunner. I heard him, when he got hit."

Long pause. He looked up, and met the colonel's gaze. His heart sank in his chest as he held that gaze. "Aw, shit. He's not okay, is he?"

"You're damn lucky to be alive, son."

"What about the team we picked up?" Foggy memories. But he knew it was wrong when it came out of his mouth. He looked back at the colonel for confirmation. "No, that's not right. We didn't pick them up. We didn't get a chance. Where are they? Did someone else…?

"You weren't picking up a team. You were dropping off supplies. Do you remember?"

No, he didn't remember. It was all a blur. That team, whoever they were, they were most likely dead. They were probably dead before the shots had ever been fired on the chopper. Murdock groaned as he took a long drag on his cigarette and coughed again. What? Wait a minute… He didn't even smoke. But he didn't put it out. He was too tired and confused to think.

What was he doing here? What was he thinking? He couldn't handle this. He wasn't made for this. He was made to fly, not to be the only survivor in an entire crew… and the team they'd gone to pick up. No… they hadn't gone to pick anyone up. It was a supply run…

The nausea hit him all over again. He turned to the opposite side of the bed and heaved, but there was nothing in his stomach. Shaking, shaken, lost in the hell of his memories and what they meant, he knew only one thing. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get away, and never, ever look back.

**1985**

Before she was even awake, Kelly realized that the bed beside her was empty. She wondered for a moment why that seemed strange, then remembered. Murdock was here. At least, he was supposed to be. She waited a few minutes to see if he'd return. When he didn't, he slowly pulled herself through the layers of sleep, sat up, and put her feet on the floor. She grabbed her robe off the back of the door and tucked it around herself tightly, stumbling out into the hallway and through the living room.

"Murdock?"

He was on the back porch, lying flat on his back and staring up at the sky, using the dog as a pillow. She smiled at the Kodak moment, then pushed the door open slowly. Homer looked up, tail thumping the wooden porch as he saw his owner, but Murdock didn't turn. Staring blankly into space, he looked like he was in another world. She wasn't sure he'd even heard her.

"Murdock?"

He blinked a few times, and turned his head, forcing a smile. "Hey, sweetheart. Come out here to watch the stars with me?"

She took a step closer and sat down. "Murdock, it's three o'clock in the morning. What are you doing out here?"

He held out a hand to her, inviting her to lie down beside him. She hesitated, and his smile turned more genuine. "Come on. Homer here makes a great pillow."

The dog's tail thumped again at the mention of his name.

Reluctantly, Kelly lowered herself down next to him. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close, guiding her head until it rested against his neck.

"Murdock," she said softly after a long moment of silence. "It's the middle of the night. And it's cold out here."

"I know," he answered quietly, matching her gentle tone. He sighed. "I couldn't sleep."

"How long have you been up?"

He shrugged, and hesitated a moment. "I had a bad dream," he finally admitted.

She slid a hand into his jacket, pulling closer to his warmth. "You could've woken me."

"Nah, it's okay. I don't wanna talk about it."

She was quiet for a long moment, fingers lightly stroking through his T-shirt. "Was it my brother?" she finally asked. "What he said?"

Murdock didn't answer.

"I'm sorry," Kelly sighed.

"It's not your fault."

"I'd try to explain it, but…" She paused, and nuzzled closer. "I can't make enough excuses for him."

"You shouldn't have to. He's responsible for his own actions." He paused for a long moment and sighed. "So am I."

She pulled away slightly, tipping her head up to look at him. "You're not actually taking it to heart, are you?"

He shut his eyes, breathing deeply a few times before answering. "Is that what your family thinks?" he finally whispered. "Is that what _you _think? All this talk about first impressions and strikes against me and –"

"No," she said firmly. "No, that's not what I think."

"I killed a lot of people over there." His voice changed tone so suddenly, melancholy to ice cold, that it startled her. She pulled back instinctively as he looked her straight in the eye. The flicker of something – anger? – turned quickly to a hollow, empty look as he finished in a whisper, "We all did."

"It was a war," she said shakily. "People die in war. Any soldier on either side knows the risk."

"He wasn't talking about soldiers. And strictly speaking, neither am I."

"What do you want me to say, Murdock? It's a fifteen year old wound. He's probably the only draft evader in the country who hasn't gotten over it."

"But not the only protestor."

His words stopped her short. He watched her, his expression pained, as he continued quietly. "That's why I'm on trial here, right? With your family? He just said what they all think."

Her eyes narrowed, a hint of anger flickering inside of her. "Margaret _married _a soldier," she reminded him.

"Yeah, and he sat there and didn't say a damn thing. The only one out of all of us with the authority and the standing to tell Randy where to go and he kept his mouth shut. If it had come to blows," he paused for a long moment, "whose side do you think he would've been on?"

Her eyes turned cold as she stared at him. "It better not come to blows, Murdock."

"Or else what?" he whispered.

She didn't answer. She had no reasonable threat to offer. With a sigh, he sat up, and put his hands on either side of her face, holding her eyes to his. "I love you, Kelly," he whispered. "And I know you love me. But if it comes to blows – with me, or Face, or Hannibal… whose side are _you _going to be on?" He hesitated for a long moment, shaking his head. "Because I know where I stand. And if he'd said that to Face instead of me? I would've embarrassed you in front of your family. And I wouldn't be sorry for it."

Kelly swallowed hard, and watched him for a long moment with fear in her eyes. "Just don't let it come to blows, Murdock," she whispered. "Talk all you want. But please. I'm begging you. Do not let it come to blows."


	14. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

**1985**

**Day Two – Friday**

Murdock awoke to soft kisses on his neck, from his ear all the way down to his collarbone. Smiling softly, he moved his hand to the back of Kelly's head, burying his fingers in her damp hair as she stopped by his ear and whispered a quiet, "Good morning."

"Morning," he answered, breathing in her scent. Her skin was still damp from the shower.

"Time to get up and face the day."

He hummed softly, nuzzling against her. "I'm not ready to be up yet." He paused to kiss her slowly, enticingly. "Maybe you should come back to bed."

The bed creaked as she moved over him, and he shivered involuntarily as she pulled the blankets down, resting her hands on his chest. "How about we compromise?"

He smiled. "What sort of compromise?"

"You wake up, but I'll come back to bed for a bit. How does that sound?"

Eyes still closed, he slid his hands up from her knees to her waist, beneath her robe. "Feisty this morning. I like it."

He traced his index fingers down along the crease of her thigh, tickling lightly. She giggled and squirmed. "I figured the least you deserved was an extra nice wakeup call."

"Well, I won't argue."

He moved his hands back to her hips as she leaned down and kissed him on the lips. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

As she lingered, he continued the kiss with growing enthusiasm. The more awake he became, the more he was starting to think that a few more minutes of sleep weren't really all that necessary.

"For being here. For putting up with my family. And doing this for me."

He smiled into another slow, probing kiss. "You're welcome."

"Today will be better. I promise."

"Even if it's not, this wakeup call _definitely _makes it worth it."

She laughed, brushing her lips lightly against his. "I like waking up next to you."

"It does have its advantages."

He took in a deep breath and pushed himself up, careful not to topple her over as he sat upright with her on his lap. With one hand bracing his weight, the other slid into her hair as he kissed her again.

"Want me to show you one of them?" he teased lightly.

"I certainly do."

He smiled as he turned and carefully pushed her back onto the bed, pulling the blankets up around them.

**1968**

Paulie's orders had been calm and fairly emotionless as always. Murdock was taking a few days off whether he liked it or not. Murdock had no thoughts of protesting. He had absolutely no desire to sit on the base and nurse his arm and watch them repair the damage done to his bird. Nothing would ever get those images out of his mind. He'd been covered in another man's blood. He'd seen the pieces of that man's brain splattered all over the instruments. He knew he'd see it in his mind's eye when he sat down in front of those instruments again. He wasn't sure he would ever get past that.

The only place he really had to go was Nha Trang. And he knew better than to expect a warm welcome from Alan. But the laughter that greeted him was a bit more than he was prepared for.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Alan didn't wait for an answer. With laughter in his voice, he turned his attention fully to Murdock. "You fall off your bunk, flyboy?"

Murdock reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He needed something to do with his hands, some place to put all the thoughts and feelings that he couldn't figure out, let alone handle. "I got shot, Alan."

The word seemed to echo in his head. Jesus Christ, he had been shot. Worse than that, he'd gotten everyone in his bird killed. His eyes broke away from Alan as soon as he spoke, trying to keep the images and smells out of his memories.

But Alan only chuckled. "Shoulder, huh? Too bad they didn't aim a little lower. You coulda got out of this hell hole. One way or the other."

The hand with the unlit cigarette stopped halfway to his mouth. Alan might have been an ass, but even he wouldn't joke about that. He didn't want Murdock dead. He might not like him, but that's not the same as wanting him dead. Alan didn't understand. His nonchalance was emphasized by the fact that he'd already gone back to the latest copy of Playboy, not affording Murdock any more of his time or attention.

"Everyone in my chopper was killed, Alan." Murdock barely recognized his own voice. "My crew, my men, the wounded we'd just picked up... I was the only one who made it out alive."

Alan turned for a moment and looked at him. After a long pause, he seemed to conclude that yes, in fact, Murdock was serious. Alan's eyes grew cold before he looked away again and answered with emotionless, empty words. "Shit happens."

"Shit happens?" Murdock couldn't help the stunned echo. He took a step towards Alan. He wanted to shake him, to make him understand. "I got every man on that chopper killed, damn it! They thought I was gonna die." He tapped his hand against his chest. "_I_ thought I was gonna die!"

"Well, you were the fuckin' idiot at the controls," Alan snapped. "You got yourself shot up that was your own damn fault. The fuck do you want me to say about it?"

Murdock felt as if he'd just been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. There were no words to answer that. There was simply nothing to say. As Alan looked straight at him again, his eyes grew even harder, even colder. His tone matched.

"It's part of bein' a fuckin' soldier, Mark. One of these days you're _gonna _die. They're gonna put a bullet in you and that hunk of metal you're so goddamn proud of is gonna fall out of the sky and incinerate everyone in it. That's what happens to choppers when they get shot at. And you die just like any other pilot. I don't give a shit _how_ good you think you are. You tryin' to make some name for yourself – biggest and the best – is just the kinda shit that gets men like me killed. I ain't gonna fuckin' congratulate you for succeeding at that."

It took Murdock a moment to even find words. When he did, he could hear the hurt and confusion in his voice. "So you've just been waitin' to hear that I'm dead?"

Alan laughed loudly at that. "If you been waitin' to hear anything other than that I'm dead, you're here for all the wrong reasons."

"I'm here for you." The answer was automatic. If he had been thinking at all - if he wasn't so damned stunned by Alan's causal acceptance of his impending death - he never would have said that aloud. Not to Alan.

"That's the wrong fuckin' reason."

Murdock swallowed hard. He hadn't come here to die. He'd come here to help, to be part of something. _And_, the little voice in his head pointed out, _you came here for him. He doesn't like you, but you have to matter to him._

"You matter to me," Murdock finished, his voice more sure now. "I don't want you to die."

_I need you, the same way you have to need me. We're the only ones left, damn it!_  
>But Alan only laughed bitterly. "Don't do me no favors, flyboy. And don't shed no tears when you get that letter. Not that you'll be able to help it. You get all fuckin' choked up when <em>old<em> people die."

There was nothing he could say to that. He couldn't even think to form words. He needed out, away from the sudden sensation of drowning on dry land. With no destination in mind, no goal other than away from the pain, Murdock turned and headed for the door.

**1985**

Murdock had heard the doorbell when he was still in the shower. He took his time finishing, giving himself a chance to refocus, to plan, to remember all that he was supposed to be. He and Kelly had gone back and forth, alternating between weak and strong for each other, the entire day yesterday. He expected more of the same today. One way or another, it was bound to be a very long day.

He sighed as he finally shut the water off, and shook out his hair. He'd given himself several days away from the drugs at the VA, let them wear off enough that he was able to think clearly. But he could still feel them. He was still aware of them. The auditory hallucinations - whispering voices, the constant sound of barking dogs. Things that weren't real. The headache hadn't gone away in days, and he still wasn't capable of reading with the blurred vision. That, more than anything, was the thing that scared him. Sure, it would wear off. Sure, he'd be back to normal when it did. But what if it didn't? And how could he fly when he couldn't see straight?

_ You're not flying right now. You're performing. For an audience._

He shook his head to clear it as he stepped out of the shower stall and grabbed the towel off the back of the door, toweling himself dry. It wasn't hard to clear his mind. He couldn't hold a train of thought for very long. He glanced out the window as he wrapped the towel around his waist and sighed at the brown Cutlass in front of the house. Kelly's parents. And Randy. They were early - the first to arrive. Somehow, that surprised him.

The knock on the door made him turn, and the soft sound of Kelly's voice, announcing her presence, made him smile. He loved having her nearby. Just the sound of her voice, the smell of her perfume, the feel of her skin. "Come on in, beautiful."

As soon as she opened the door, he could see something was wrong. It was in her body language - head down, shoulders dropped. She turned and shut the door, looking at it for a moment before turning back to him. His brow furrowed as he turned to her. "Everything okay?"

It was a stupid question. She looked like she wanted to hide. Everything was not okay. Leaning back against the door, she kept her head down, only raising her eyes to him. "Murdock, I need to talk to you."

Her voice was hesitant, full of worry and something else he couldn't immediately identify. Already, he didn't like where this was headed. "What happened?" Some gut instinct inside of him just wanted to put his arms around her and hug her until that look and tone went away.

Her hands nervously twisted into her slacks. She seemed to be addressing the floor when she started to speak. "Randy got into some trouble at the hotel." Her voice was raspy, almost as if she was having trouble forcing the words out.

"What kind of trouble?"

Swallowing, she bit the inside of her lip before starting again, even softer this time. "With um… the night manager. A fist fight." She glanced up at him. "He's going to have to stay here the next few nights."

He blinked, surprised. For a moment, he wasn't exactly sure what to say. Finally, he took a step closer to her, his attention focused entirely on her. "Are you okay with that?"

She let out a breath and looked up at him for a brief second, like she was searching him, trying to gauge his reaction. Then she looked back down. "It doesn't matter if I'm okay with it," she sighed, blushing slightly. Embarrassed? Ashamed? "It's my parents' house."

He hesitated a moment, not entirely sure what she meant by that. "No... it's _your _house. You live in it, you pay to keep the lights on, ergo yours." He reached up a hand to rub her arm. She wasn't expecting it, and she flinched. "And it matters to me if you're okay with it. 'Cause if not, he can find himself another place to spend the night."

"Murdock, you don't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

She took in a deep, slow breath. There was no hiding the emotions swirling in her eyes. "When Daddy had to leave town, I took over the mortgage and bills, but the house has always been in their name. It has to stay in the family. It's supposed to be my inheritance. That's why I still sleep in the room I grew up in. The Master bedroom is my parents'_._ That's also why," her eyes seemed to grow distant, pulling back into herself, "why I just left Randy's room alone and made the den into a guest room."

Suddenly, she was looking at him. Really looking. But it was impossible to pick one emotion out of all of those that were running across her face. Her hand suddenly gripped the one on her arm as she pleaded desperately. "Please Murdock, understand. I _have _to let them stay."

"Them?"

"All three of them were asked to leave." She looked away. "Daddy got involved to break up the fight and started yelling at the man. It was…" She shook her head, looking back at him with tears in her eyes. "Please. You have to understand. I have to do this. Please, I just need you to understand."

The tone of her voice had him nodding before he really even processed what he was agreeing to. "Alright, okay." He pulled his arm away gently and carefully lifted her hand from it, kissing the back of her fingers. "It's alright."

Kelly stepped into his embrace, leaning heavily on him, holding him tight as she took several long, deep breaths. He guided her hand to his shoulder and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close. "You do what you have to do, Kelly," he whispered. "It's your decision. I'm here no matter what."

Eyes closed tight, she pressed into him. After several moments of just clinging to him she finally lifted her head. "What I want is to just hide away with you somewhere, alone." She hugged him tighter before sighing wistfully. "But I need to take care of my family first."

He stroked her back slowly, up and down, sliding a hand under her shirt so that he could feel her warm skin. "It's only for a few days, Kelly. And I'll be right here."

"I know."

The sad expression on her face made it clear she was more than just unhappy at the thought of a few more days of this. In fact, she looked less pleased with it than he was. He smiled softly, reassuringly. "And we can always find places to hide. You don't have to be with them twenty-four hours a day."

Very slowly, he reached up a hand to push her hair back from her eyes. There was no flinch this time, and his smile turned more genuine. "Like now. See?" He glanced around him. "Hidden. No one here. We can even lock the door if it'll make you feel better."

She let a choked laugh. "I already locked it."

He smiled. "There, see? Hidden. And you don't have to leave until you're good and ready to."

She looked up at him for a moment, then stood up on her toes so she could place a gentle, thankful kiss on his lips. Then she pulled back, staring at him, the emotion in her eyes slowly becoming a look of love and gratitude. The corner of her mouth tipped up just slightly, almost a smile. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Suddenly, she hugged him tight again, burrowing her head into his shoulder. Hiding? He smiled as he stroked her back, resting his cheek on top of her hair.

"Maybe we could stay here just a little bit longer?" she pleaded softly.

He smiled, and wrapped both arms around her. "Anything you want, Kelly." He breathed slow, turning his head to kiss her hair. "I'm not going anywhere."


	15. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

**1968**

He'd known he wasn't alone. There were very few places where he could actually be _alone _around here. And certainly not on a base as large and as busy as Nha Trang. But he didn't imagine that anyone would pay him any mind. Sitting inside the hangar and watching silently as the mechanics worked on the grounded choppers, patching them and getting them ready to fly again, he let his mind wander where it willed. He'd probably been here for hours; he'd lost track. It didn't matter. He had all the time in the world to kill.

_"Me and Uncle Sam have a difference of opinion on the matter."_ The words from the Special Forces medic were repeating in his mind, over and over again. _"Dead men can't kill other men. And that's about all any of us are good for - killing and dying."_

Was that really how everyone here thought? Alan certainly would've agreed with that statement. Had Murdock just missed the memo? Sure, Vietnam was a miserable place. But hopeless? Truly hopeless? Was he the only one who _hadn't _come here to die?

His eyes involuntarily wandered over the chopper nearest to him. Without thinking, he took in every detail - every ding, every patch. He knew the mechanics of her engine and the aerodynamics of her flight. And after a little bit of time he could learn her personality, her quirks. Just like people - no two were the same. Just like how his chopper had a little catch in steep climbs.

His chopper… He had to close his eyes again to block out the sight of Opie's blood and brain matter spilled and sticking to every surface of the cockpit. The feel of it soaking though his flight suit, staining it forever. He was solely responsible for that chopper and for her crew. He had gotten them all killed, for nothing.

_"__They're gonna put a bullet in you and that hunk of metal you're so goddamn proud of is gonna fall out of the sky_._"_

Alan had known and been waiting for what Murdock had never believed could happen. Murdock had been so proud when he'd been assigned that bird. He'd spent hours going over every inch, even named her. Hazel was her name. He had been so sure of her and of what he could do in her. Never once did he think about what the enemy could do to her.

How in the hell was he ever supposed to get into the cockpit again? One screw up, one flash of inattention and he could get them all killed. One foolish move on a mission he should've known better than to even attempt. He could crash her and kill them all. _Worse_, the voice in his head spoke. _You could do everything right and everybody could get killed anyway._

That was the painful, gut wrenching truth. He didn't have complete control of anything. Not here.

"You new?"

The voice seemed to come from nowhere. It took Murdock a moment to realize that there was someone standing next to him, looking at him with curiosity. He pulled his eyes away from the chopper and tried to focus his attention on the present with only moderate success.

"No, I been in forever."

His eyes dropped to the floor and he reached for a smoke. The pack was almost empty and he didn't even remember smoking most of them.

"Haven't seen you before."

"I'm with the 20th SOS." There should have been more to that introduction. But what was the point? Why learn the names of those about to die?

The man - really, he was only a boy - sat down before he spoke again. "Pete Cellus. Call me Patch."

Patch grinned as he extended a hand. Murdock shook it out of habit. "HM Murdock."

"You got that look like you just got shelled for the first time. And the arm to vouch for it."

Patch nodded to the sling over Murdock's arm as he flicked his lighter, saving Murdock the effort of fumbling one-handed for his. Murdock hesitated instinctively. It was… nice. Someone actually being _nice _was something he sure as hell hadn't been expecting.

Leaning in slightly, he let his cigarette slide into the flame and took a slow, deep inhale. He held it in his lungs, trying to figure out a way to avoid the question. He didn't want to talk about what had happened, but he couldn't keep everything in, either. It was overwhelming, confusing. In the end, he decided it was best to just keep his eyes on the choppers.

"Yeah I got shelled." He swallowed hard and looked at the ground. "Actually, I damn near got shot out of the sky and I got my whole damn crew killed." Why was he telling him this?

Patch was quiet for a moment. "Usually getting shot at doesn't come with a personal responsibility."

"I was the AC. It was my call to go in." Eyes still on the ground, he replayed it for the thousandth time in his head. Being the best hadn't helped any of them. And they had trusted him.

"So did you actually go down?"

There was no judgment in Patch's tone, but no real concern, either. He might as well have been talking about the weather. He lit his own cigarette, stretching his legs out comfortably in front of him and leaning back on the corrugated tin.

"I got shot _up_," Murdock clarified. He paused to take a drag. "Made it back to base, but it was too late."

Not a single one of the wounded had made it. Hell, none of the people he'd left the supplies for had made it, either. The whole damn thing had been entirely useless.

"That a new experience for you?" Patch asked. The hint of concern was there, but it was so mixed with confusion, it was hard to pick out.

They were fixing his chopper right now. How in the hell was e every supposed to fly her again? "Getting a bunch of kids killed? Yeah, that's a new one for me."

There should have been emotion in that. But there wasn't. Any feeling he had was trapped deep inside of him, locked up tight. If he acknowledged it, then he would have to deal with those emotions. And he had no clue how to do that.

"Hey, man, keep it straight," Patch said. Murdock glanced at him and saw a slight, sympathetic smile on his face. "_Charlie _shot your bird up. It's not like you decided to run it into the ground in some elaborate suicide attempt."

There was a part of Murdock that could hear the logic in those words, understand the reasoning, and maybe even accept the truth behind them. But the feelings - guilt, pain, doubt - were still there, all under the surface, all demanding his attention. He had been the straight arrow, cocky flyboy. A walking ad for the US Air Force. The best and the brightest - infallible, unstoppable. That was gone now. That person had died a couple hundred feet over a useless piece of land in a country whose name he hadn't even known until a few years ago. So who was he now?

Pilot, that was the first thing that came to his mind. No matter what else he was or wasn't, pilot would stay. It wasn't a job or a skill, it was a basic part of him. So then what was he supposed to do with that? Because he sure as hell didn't think he could fly again…

"Wanna hear something funny?" he mumbled quietly.

"Huh?"

"I actually volunteered to come over here. Thought I could help. You know, do something useful." He tapped his ashes on the ground. "Though maybe I could make a difference. But I didn't help anyone. They all died for nothing."

"Those guys who died knew it was a possibility. Same as you. It's not your job to keep them alive. It's your job to do everything you can to get your bird back to base and your mission completed. Which it sounds like you did."

Patch made it sound so simple. But this wasn't how it was supposed to be. Or maybe it was, and he was just too blind, too naïve to see what Alan and, it seemed, everyone else knew and accepted so easily. They were all here to die.

"So how do you deal with it?" he asked quietly, looking down as he crushed out his smoke on the cement floor. "How do you get up knowing you're all this close to dead? How do you forget what you've seen and done?"

Patch shrugged. "I don't forget it. I just ignore it."

Murdock raised a brow. "Ignore it?"

Patch reached for the flask in his pocket. "You gotta learn to ignore it, focus on the _good _things. And live life for now."

He took a swig of whatever was in the flask, and held it out to Murdock. "When I first came here, I was all about my ten step life plan," Patch said as Murdock eyed the flask warily for a moment. "But I realized something here. Whatever step you're on, you might be dead before you hit the next one. So _have_ your plan, but don't have it at the expense of today. 'Cause I don't wanna stand at St. Peter's gates and go 'I just wish I'd done... whatever.'"

Ten step plan. Murdock had had one of those, but it seemed like a distant memory right now. Now he wasn't sure if he was going to make it back to base, let alone make it though his next mission. Maybe that was all the more reason to believe Patch was right. He needed to live life for now.

There were only two things - besides flying – that were important to him now. Alan, whom he knew he would never understand, and Cai. He was surprised by how readily the memory of her came to mind. God, he could have died without doing any of the things he wanted to with her, without ever really being able to talk to her.

When he'd met her, he thought he had time – all the time in the world, in fact. He had time to learn her language, to take her out, slowly build up to see if she was the one. The one he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. The woman he would marry, the one who would be his first. Jesus Christ, he almost died a virgin! Alan would laugh his ass of if he found that out.

Finally, he took the flask that was being offered. If there was any chance that it would numb what he was feeling he had to try it. He held the flask just for a second before he took a large drink. Apparently, he took too big of a drink because suddenly his mouth and throat were on fire – a bitter, strong taste that burned all the way down to his stomach. Hell it might have burned right through his stomach. He could feel his face heating up as he sputtered and gasped for air.

Coughing and wheezing, he barely managed to sputter, "Jesus Christ! What the hell is in that? Jet fuel?"  
>Patch laughed. "Jack Daniels. Only the best."<p>

He managed to hide his grimace at the idea of drinking Jack. One of his old man's favorites. But he couldn't afford to be picky at the moment.

"Hey, man, you'll be off the clock 'til that heals." Patch nodded to Murdock's arm before he pulled himself up to his feet and slipped the flask back into his pocket. "Go find yourself a girl. Relax a little. You deserve it. I'd say I'd go with you but I'm booked from now 'til forever with these repairs."

He felt a small smile come over his face. Seeing Cai seemed like a hell of a good idea right now. He may not have time to think past the moment, but spending those moments with her felt good. Murdock put his good hand on the floor and pushed himself up until he was standing eye to eye with Patch.

"Yeah I think seeing a girl sounds like a damn fine idea." He held his hand out. "Thanks, man."  
>Patch grinned as he shook his hand, and clapped his unhurt shoulder. "Anytime."<p>

**1985**

"They got kicked out of the motel last night."

Face nodded, glancing over Murdock's shoulder at Randy, who was already eyeing him since the moment he'd arrived. "Yeah, I heard." Face cut his gaze back to Murdock. "Actually, I think half the county heard."

Murdock put his head back on the siding, leaning against the house. "Man, Face, what am I gonna do? That guy is just… He's got Kelly all tied up in knots when he's staying somewhere else. Stayin' here, she ain't even gonna get a break from him!"

"Tell him no?" Face suggested.

Murdock stared at him for a long moment. The suggestion was so simple, Face wasn't sure why Murdock was looking at him as if he'd just explained some great mystery of the universe. Finally, Murdock snapped out of it, shaking his head as he looked away. "No, she can't."

"Why not?"

"Because Kelly's parents actually own the house. She can't kick them out."

Face nodded slowly. "And Randy comes with them," he concluded.

Murdock covered his face with his hands again. "He's just so… I told her I would try and ignore him. But damned if that's not one of the hardest things I've ever tried to do."

Face let out a deep sigh, his jaw clenching just a bit. Randy was a growing problem and one that was increasing difficult to ignore. He was a hothead who couldn't take a hint or refrain from floating his own agenda. Randy only understood confrontation – Face knew the type – and Murdock wanted nothing but peace. This would not go well.

As Murdock looked up again, his eyes were pleading. "What am I gonna do, Face?"

"You're gonna enjoy your family weekend," Face answered simply. He smirked. "I'll keep Randy under control."

Murdock frowned deeply. "That ain't gonna help things and you know it. The whole reason he wants to make a scene is 'cause Kelly _doesn't _want that. Last thing I wanna see is you playin' into that."

"I'll keep it as civil as I can for Kelly," Face assured, taking a sip of his coffee. "But if the only thing he understands is when someone puts him down, repeatedly, I don't mind being the bad guy here."

Murdock sighed, and looked away. "I wish you wouldn't."

"I know." It wasn't a promise, just an acknowledgement.

"Where is Hannibal?" Murdock asked.

"He'll be here later today. Though if you're worried about _me _being able to use kid gloves with Randy…"

He didn't finish. They both knew how some "baby killer" comment would go over with Hannibal. Murdock may want to avoid a confrontation, and Face may try to concede to that even if it was useless. But Hannibal wouldn't stand for it.

Murdock was quiet for a moment, looking over at Randy. "You know," he finally started, seriously, "if I didn't know better, I'd say he planned it. It's like he wanted to be here. So he could keep an eye on everything. On Kelly."

Face nodded as he considered it. The thought had crossed his mind, too. But it wasn't something he was prepared to pursue. There were too many pieces missing for him to make that kind of conclusion. But Murdock had more of those pieces, and his brow was furrowed.

"What the hell is goin' on in this family, Face?

"That's a very good question," Face answered quietly. He paused for a long moment, and took a sip of coffee, offering a slight smile to go with his very serious question. "How many closet doors do you want to open?"


	16. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

**1968**

"_Xin Chao_, Cai."

The woman's head snapped up from her desk at the sound of his voice, and she blinked a few times, startled, before she managed a response. "What you… Why you here?" Her tone was some strange mix of confusion, awe, and wary distrust.

He laughed; God it felt so go to do that, he _needed_ to do that. Stepping into the room, he smiled at her. "I'm here because I _like_ you, Cai."

He walked up to her desk, so close he could smell her, almost touch her. She looked up at him and frowned, shrinking back a little as she gathered the papers in front of her into a pile.

"And I want to take you out, get something to eat." He said it first in English. Then, knowing she would pretend to not understand, he said it again in Vietnamese – at least, as best as he could.

"You long time go." She didn't look at him, hurried in her efforts to pack up so she could walk away. He knew this pattern. "I no do. You go. Good bye."

She didn't even have her papers together yet, and she was making her intentions very clear. He watched her for a long moment before speaking again. "Cai…"

He was still smiling, but even he could hear that haunted tone in his voice. Not what he needed her to hear. Not what he needed to be feeling now. Time was too short for that.

"Cai, I'm sorry it took me so long. I got hurt. But I'm here now."

He carefully, softly set his hand on top of hers. She froze instantly as he breached her personal space. He waited until she looked at him.

"Come to dinner with me, Cai."

It took her a long moment before she finally looked up - at his arm, not his face. "What you do?"

He couldn't describe everything he felt at that moment, but he suddenly wanted to protect her, he wanted to make her feel safe, to laugh, to live in the moments that they had. Slowly and gently, he put his hand under her chin, tilting her head up until he was looking in his eyes. There, she would be able to see the truth.

"I just want to take you out." He dropped his voice even lower. "I'm not going to hurt you, Cai. I just want to see you smile today."

She didn't ask again about his injuries. They were liable to happen; she understood that much. She lowered her eyes again, but didn't pull away from him. "Please. I no do." She looked up at him again, eyes pained. "You find girl. _American _girl. I no."  
>Someone had broken her heart; he could see it in her eyes. Murdock managed to keep his anger at whoever had done that to her out of his eyes. She didn't need to see that. Strange feelings of protection and tenderness took the place of everything else he had been feeling.<p>

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. It felt heavy and soft. He had to fight the urge to pull her hair out of its ponytail and run his hands through those silky strands. Her hair was a source of pride for her. Just wearing it up proved that. The ARVN guys had told him, "Only clean, nice girls have hair up. No bugs."

She lowered her head a fraction. But it was hard to tell if she was pulling away or actually nuzzling against his hand. "Why?" she asked. "Why you do this?"

"Because I like you. Your smile is the only thing in this whole damn country that makes me want to smile, too. I want to hear you laugh." He paused, not knowing if she would understand the words. But he said them anyway, because she'd asked. "Because I don't know how much time I've got, but I whatever it is, I want to spend it with you."

"You go." She turned her head away, withdrawing from his touch. "You GI. _Chien si luon luon de lai_."

His voice was soft, and sure as he smiled at her. He remembered that phrase. She'd said it before and he'd made note of it. "Soldiers always leave," he translated quietly. "But I'm HM Murdock. I'm not a soldier, I'm a pilot. And I'm not leaving, Cai."

She turned away, but he wasn't deterred.

"I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, but right now I wanna take you to dinner. Besides, if you think my Vietnamese is funny, wait until you see me try to use chopsticks. Guaranteed to make you smile."

She didn't understand a word of that. He could tell by the look on her face as she tried to decipher it. She stared blankly at him, but she didn't pull away.

**1985**

As Kelly's family began to arrive for day two of this exciting weekend, Murdock was acutely aware of two things. Number one, they were no less inquisitive today than they had been yesterday. And number two, standing by Face made everything _so_ much easier.

Abigail started the show. "So you fly charters. That must be so interesting!"

She was moving in closer – too close – when Uncle Morris (great uncle?) piped up. "Do you deal with those rock and roll types? Lots of drinking and drugs. Not our type of people at all."

Aunt Sara – or was it Maggie? – gave a stage whisper. "Drugs! Oh, no, that would never do. It's bad enough that he's a drinker."

Abigail was either batting her eyes or she had something in them when she cooed, "Oh now that's not what he said. Besides, I think it's a fascinating job!"

Murdock couldn't get a word in edgewise, and he didn't try. Face seemed more than happy to take the weight of those questions, coffee in hand and buffer ready. "We're very selective about our clientele," he said, glancing briefly at Murdock. But he kept his attention on the small little crowd. And, more importantly, he kept their attention on him.

The older man with coke bottle thick glasses actually harrumphed a little at that. "Selective? You must make a lot of money to be selective."

A woman with giant permed hair answered, "Well, he better make money. He better not be planning on living off of our Kelly."

Abigail had latched onto his arm. She was smiling, a little too friendly. "Oh, now, I bet you make plenty of money. Kelly is lucky to have snatched you up!"

Murdock gave a quick smile - friendly but certainly not overly so - to Abigail before pulling his arm away. "Face, you need some more coffee?"

He was already reaching for Face's cup. Face didn't need more coffee. But Murdock didn't need Abigail hanging on his arm, either. As he took the mug and walked away, Face stepped deliberately into Abigail's line of sight and flashed her a brilliant smile. "So, Abigail, what do you do for a living?"

Abigail blinked twice. Disappointment at losing her prey quickly turned to an assessment of a new potential target. Breaking into a smile that was clearly meant to be alluring, Abigail all but purred. "Well, I'm currently a dental hygienist, but I am really an actress. I'm between jobs at the moment."

"Really?" Face exclaimed. "I have a number of connections in Hollywood. Perhaps I can put you in touch with some producers."

Abigail's face lit up.

Aunt Jen was the next to speak. "Abby was once an extra in a TV ad for Insane Tim's Bargain outlet seven years ago." There was no sarcasm in that, but Face got the distinct impression that Aunt Jan didn't care for Abby.

Second cousin Pete was a little late piping up with, "Hey, I wanted some coffee too. Wasn't very nice of him to walk off without offering. Used to be people were taught manners."

Big haired lady agreed with a, "Young people today. I blame television and their parents."

"So you're in business with him? How long you two known each other?"

"About ten years," Face answered smoothly. Uncle Morris was on the scent and not about to be shook off that easy. "And I'll be happy to get that coffee for you if you'd like. Murdock's probably just a little scatterbrained with all the excitement."

He held out his hand, offering to take the cup. It was the smiling, matronly Aunt who spoke next. "Oh, posh and bother, Pete. You _know _you're not supposed to be drinking coffee. Not with you blood pressure." She patted Face on the arm and somehow maneuvered Abigail away. "Your friend seems to be a fine young man who has a lot going for him. Including the patience to deal with a lot of overly protective relatives who sometimes forgettheir manners."

Her voice was pleasant, but it was clear the group had been chastised. Face chuckled good-naturedly. "I completely understand. You all just want the best for Kelly." He glanced at each of them, making complete eye contact. "And I can certainly understand why. From what I hear, Kelly is the best thing that's ever happened to my friend, Murdock."

**1968**

"How you do?" Cai nodded to the sling on Murdock's arm again. She wasn't going to let him get away without offering some explanation. But he'd won a major victory in getting her to come out here. Maybe he owed her some kind of explanation. Minimal, at best.

"I was shot," he said quietly. "It'll heal."

She lowered her eyes without answering, studying her food but not touching it. The bar was not overly crowded, but there weren't a lot of empty tables, either. Cai knew the manager. They'd exchanged smiles and words that Murdock didn't understand, and the much older woman had escorted them to a secluded table in the back.

There were few Americans in the bar, and those who were there seemed to be attached to one or more of the Vietnamese men and women who were escorting them. For his part, Murdock was having a harder time than he would like to admit trying to eat with one hand. But the food was good. Good enough that Cai should have been eating it. Something was bothering her – eyes down, head lowered. Finally, she raised one hand from her lap to trace the edge of the origami flower on the table beside her bowl.

"You don't like it here?" he asked quietly.

She looked up at him and forced a smile. "Good food. Yes?"

He smiled back at her and glanced briefly at the noodles that had escaped his clumsy, one handed attempt to eat. "What I have managed to get into my mouth has been very good." It was impossible to hold the bowl and the chopsticks at the same time.

The fake, forced smile remained in place as she reached for her spoon. "Good food." She put her head down, cradled the bowl, and took another slow bite. She was watching the rest of the bar out of the corner of her eye, and she froze as one of the men came a little too close for her liking. He had no interest in her, but the proximity alone seemed to make her nervous.

The look in her eye, the way she went eerily still… It had the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. She was afraid. It wasn't anything the man had done; it was something he represented to her. Glancing only briefly at the man, Murdock took in every detail about him and then put his focus back on Cai. Something inside of him wanted to find whoever had put that fear in her eye and kill them.

That thought was so sharp and clear that he was sure it would show in his look. He dropped his eyes to the table, not looking back at her until the anger was gone. He carefully kept his hand in her line of sight as he set it on her shoulder. "Are you okay, Cai?"

She pulled away from him, shifting uncomfortably. "Good food." She glanced up quickly, then gestured to his bowl. "You eat. Good."

"We can leave." No food, no date was worth watching her be so uncomfortable, so afraid.

She looked up again, meeting his gaze, her own eyes pleading. "You eat. Please." She gave a slight smile as she set her hands in her lap again. "Good food."

He watched the desperate look in her eye and was agreeing without thinking. He would have done anything to take that look away. Someone had done more than broken her heart. Someone had _hurt_ her – badly enough that she was still afraid. He didn't have the words to ask her in her language, and she would have the words to tell him in his. Damn it, he was going to learn Vietnamese if it killed him.

He couldn't help her with whatever was on her mind right now. But he did want to see her smile again. "Okay, fine, I'll eat. If you promise not to laugh."

He pulled the bowl to the edge of the table, trapping it against his body as he picked up the chopsticks. Bending low, over the bow he picked up some of the slippery noodle and tried to quickly get them into his mouth before the escaped again. He failed miserably, he redoubled his effort and on the second attempt. He managed to get about half of them in with an audible slurping noise. Damn. Not his smoothest move ever, but still he was smiling at his success.

"Ha! Take that, foul noodle!"

His efforts made her smile, too. And for the first time that night, he heard her giggle quietly, raising her hand to cover her mouth. There was something so innocent, so feminine in that giggle. It was the most beautiful sound he had heard in Vietnam. Laughing softly with her, he gave a smug smile.

"Told you I would make you laugh."

He glanced at his shirt. Yup, it had gotten more noodles than his mouth. Raising his eyebrow and smiling at her, he made a dramatic show of tucking his napkin into his collar. Then he went back to failing soup-eating in a foreign country. As long as she was smiling, he didn't give a damn.


	17. Chapter 16

Warning: The rating increase is for a reason. The official warning is I don't give warnings. It's no holds barred. I write them as the characters demand, or they get cranky and refuse to talk to me any more.

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

**1968**

For as uncomfortable as she was in the presence of a perceived threat, Cai seemed remarkably relaxed in the darkness of the walk home. At least, that was where Murdock assumed they were headed. He was letting her lead the way, letting her take his mind completely off of the things he didn't really want to be thinking about. And for the first time, he was listening to her questions, not the other way around. For the first time, she was actively engaging with him without his prodding and pleading.

"How long you GI?"

He smiled in the darkness. It felt like forever at this point, but really it had only been, "Six years."

It made sense when he considered the fact that he had only really started living when he took that first flight at fifteen. That made six years… most of his life.

He repeated himself in Vietnamese. He wasn't sure how much she would understand in his language or how badly he would mangle the reply in hers. So he had taken to using both in the hopes she would be able to piece together the answers.

"Long time."

"A lifetime," he answered truthfully.

There was a certain amount of caution and care in his replies. Cai was afraid of soldiers; he had figured that much out. Murdock had no idea where she was heading with these questions, but wherever it was, he would let her lead and he would follow - just like he was doing with the slow walk to her door. However far she needed to go was fine with him. Maybe even more than fine, he realized as an odd warmth crept into his cautious feelings. She wanted to know about him...

She sighed audibly as she looked away. "When war is over, you go," she said quietly. There was an unmistakable sadness in her voice. "Six years... It not enough. You love war too much."

Murdock stopped dead in his tracks. As she paused beside him, she gave him that curious, serious, confused look she had so often. Is that what she really thought - that he loved war? She couldn't have been any further from the truth. That pained look behind her eyes made him want to protect her, soothe the pain away and hold her close, feel her body relax against his. He couldn't do that, he knew. Social rules strictly prohibited anything of the sort. But right now, he wanted nothing more.

"I hate war," he whispered, soft and slow. "I don't understand it. It's bloody and painful and I'll never understand it."

"You bring war here."

His uninjured hand went to her face, gently tucking an errant strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. "What I love is flying, not war."

"You fly," she whispered. "You kill my people with bombs."

"That's not the kind of pilot I am."

She looked away. "You GI. All same."

"My only goal is to save my guys. Kids."

"You save them?" There was a hint of challenge in her tone, and in her eyes as she locked on him.

"Yes, I try to."

"What save from?" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "They kill my people. Say to help. I no want you help. You go!"

He didn't answer, just watched her silently. She didn't understand and he wasn't really surprised by that. How long had her country been fighting now? Most likely, all she knew was that a uniform meant guns and killing. Was she wrong? Was what he did from above any different in effect then what happened on the ground? He didn't have to see the bodies except when he was taking what was left. Did that mean he wasn't responsible?

The anger and fear and confusion in her eyes mixed and mingled with the pain. He didn't have the words in any language to tell her how it felt to see that look in her eyes. As she studied him, waiting for a response that wouldn't come, the look slowly turned to deep sadness.

"When war is over," she finally whispered, "you go kill other places."

Was that why she was afraid of soldiers? The killing? Or was it the going? Soldiers always leave – that's what she'd said. She wasn't just afraid of bad soldiers coming, she was afraid of the ones who left. Or was it just one? One GI who had left her? Without thinking, his thumb stroked across her cheek.

"I don't know what's going to happen, Cai."

"I know. _Chien__si__luon__luon__de__lai_."

And there it was again.

"I have nowhere to go,"

There was a painful stab in his chest at the honesty that made its way out of his mouth. Things like that were dangerous to acknowledge, even more dangerous to admit. But it was true. He had nothing. All the plans and dreams he'd had were somehow dead and heavy and cold in his chest. They'd been murdered right in front of him, snuffed out in an instant, just like the lives of so many boys over here. Like his crew.

"Cai, I don't even know if I'm going be alive at the end of the day." His eyes closed for just a second as he pushed away the image of the blood and brains splattered all over his chopper. "I don't know what I'm gonna do after this war is over. But I do know that I'm tired of all the killing and dying."

Her expression softened slightly. Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or the pain he knew she could see in his eyes. Either way, it was a gentler, accepting look. And it was what he needed, what he craved. He needed to see something warm and soft and frail and human in all of this. He needed to care for something gentle and loving. He needed to have someone care for him. It was times like this when he could remember so clearly the warmth and safety of his mother's arms – a rare memory, but a powerful one.

"I need to see something beautiful," he whispered.

She watched him for a long moment, studying him carefully, not speaking. God he needed to learn her language, to tell her...

Finally, she reached into the bag at her side and withdrew one of the carefully folded origami flowers he had presented her with the last time he'd seen her. He recognized the paper immediately as she held it up in her palm and whispered, "Beautiful."

Something inside of him shifted, glowing and warm in the dark, painful confusion that had become part of him since his bird had taken those bullets. Cai had kept his paper flower - something with no value other than the time and the meaning that went into making it for her, something she understood, part of him that _she_understood.

"Beautiful," he agreed.

She smiled softly.

God he wanted to kiss her. Every logical thought he had warned him it was a bad idea. Too fast, too forward, too much for her. But his heart wasn't listing. There was so little time, so much left to learn about her, so much more that was needed. Not letting himself think, he carefully leaned in close to her, watching for any sign of fear or retreat in her eyes. When he found none, he let his lips touch her cheek, soft and fleeting.

"Beautiful like you."

She lowered her eyes as he withdrew, not speaking for a long moment. When she finally did, it was soft and serious. "You go."

He smiled; there was no stopping it. She was still here, she hadn't disappeared like a ghost or a figment of his imagination.

"I'll go. After I walk you home." The hand on her face caressed her cheek as some part of him marveled at just how soft and perfect the skin under his fingers was. "And then I'll come back for you."

At that moment in time he knew he would find a way back to her. She was a lighthouse in the darkness. And as long as he was alive, he would find his way back to her.

**1985**

Kelly was almost through with peeling the potatoes for the soup in the huge pot on the stove when she heard the footsteps on the tile floor behind her. She stopped cold at the first sound of them. It wasn't Murdock. He'd done everything he could to convince her that he should be allowed to help her in the kitchen before she'd finally kicked him out into the backyard to run Homer's energy out. She could still see the two of them chasing back and forth in the grass. She could see Face, too. And Stacie. They were sitting with coffee at the round glass table on the back porch, watching as the neighbors and relatives gathered and mingled as much as they ever would, coming and going at the folding tables.

Stacie had offered to help, too. Kelly had insisted that she needed a few minutes alone, and it wasn't a lie. She'd wanted time to think. But as she heard - more _felt_- the approach behind her, she suddenly wished she'd had the foresight to keep at least one of them in the kitchen with her.

"Ain't it a little early for dinner?" Randy's mocking voice was like a knife.

She didn't look back at him, but instead glanced up at the window again. How inconspicuous would it be to open it so that they would at least be able to hear her from out on the porch? "It's soup," she answered, proud of her ability to keep her voice from shaking. "It all goes in a pot at the beginning of the day and you eat it whenever you're hungry."

He walked to the stove and inspected the five gallon pot for a moment. "You forgot to turn the stove on. Or were you planning to boil it with your Jedi mind tricks?"

She didn't look up and she didn't answer. It wasn't really a question. Wishing she could just disappear, she set the peeler down and reached for the stove knob, carefully controlling the panic she felt rising up inside of her. Maybe he would get bored and leave. It wasn't much to hope for, but her defense mechanism had always been to shrink away. There was nothing else she could do.

He caught her hand over the knob and she jumped. Panic raced through her as he held her hand still for a moment before turning it slowly. "I's gonna get that for you." His breath reeked of vodka, his presence invading her personal space… "'Cause see, I'm a helper like that. Just here to help."

Everything about him brought those memories that were dangerously close to the surface bubbling up to the forefront of her mind. Fighting back the nausea and panic, she barely managed to maintain her composure. But she was losing the battle. Staring at his hand and not daring to look at his eyes - she was afraid of what she would see there - she spoke and cursed herself for how weak her voice sounded.

"You need to let go so I can finish the soup before people start coming in looking for food." Maybe if he thought someone was coming he would stop. It was a desperate tactic, but the only one she had available at the moment.

He held her hand there for a moment, saying nothing, then finally let go. Clearly, it was at his leisure. He allowed her to return to her peeling, and reached up to the cabinets, opening them until he found the coffee cups. "What kind of soup is it?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he poured liquor from the bottle in his pocket first, then coffee, and stirred it with his finger before taking a sip. She didn't want him drinking and he knew that, but saying anything would start a fight and she just wanted him to leave. She needed him to go away.

"Turkey. Daddy's favorite."

_Please__leave,_ she silently begged, not taking her eyes off of what she was doing.

He didn't leave. When she was through cutting, she dropped the potatoes in the pot and headed for the door. If he wouldn't leave, she sure as hell would. But before she had a chance, he'd leaned ever so casually into her path, putting his arm on the fridge to cut her off. "My favorite too. But I'll bet you knew that already."

Stopping short, she keep her eyes down, it wasn't his outstretched arm that had her fight or flight instincts going into overtime. It was the tone, the insinuation in his voice. _Just__don't__act__threatening__and__maybe__he__will__go__away._

He wouldn't go away. She knew that. But she had a lot of experience in dealing with him. Was it wrong to hope he was too drunk to follow through on whatever game he was playing? Her voice was strained when she replied, "No, I didn't. Please move, I have to go, Murdock is waiting for me."

_Please__don't__let__him__see__it's__a__lie.__Please__let__him__be__too__drunk__…_

He took another sip from his coffee mug, then set it on top of the fridge as he leaned in close to her, his cheek nearly touching hers, just shy of contact. His presence, so close to her, touched a nerve that sent pure fear through her. He inhaled deeply, audibly, and turned his head to whisper into her ear. "Looks like he already got to you this morning. You smell like cum. You really should clean up before you go out in public, you know. It's only decent."

Panic and reason fought for control; panic won. Kelly pushed off the cold metal of the refrigerator door and ducked under his arm, turning and trying to run. She didn't care where to, as long as it was away from him and his drunken attention. But she didn't get far. He grabbed her arm tight, spun her around until her back was to the counter, and pinned her there with one hand on the countertop on either side of her, bending her back slightly. Trapped. She was trapped. And suddenly, she couldn't breathe.

"You never used to like that smell. Though you didn't seem to mind the taste. Or is he just," Randy smirked at her, eyes wicked and burning into hers, "special?"

She had nowhere to go. No way to escape his piercing glare. "Leave me alone Randy," she whispered, barely able to form the words.

He ignored her. "He's not _really_the first guy who's fucked you, is he?" His voice was patronizing as he raised a hand and grabbed her chin, turning her face towards his expression of mock sympathy. "Come on. Be honest."

She realized she was shaking. Setting her jaw in an attempt to regain her composure, she looked the monster in the eye. She wasn't alone. And she knew it. "Let me go or I'll scream," she managed, her voice shaking. If he would just be the one afraid for once, maybe he would stop this time.

"And say what? I'm not even touching you." He had her pinned, bent back, but his hands were back on the counter, not on her. "Besides, you won't scream. If you wanted to do that, you would've done it a long, long time ago."

The opening back door had his head snapping to the side to see who it was. But when he saw Stacie, he didn't actually step away from where he had Kelly pinned. Kelly's eyes locked on her, desperate and pleading out of instinct, although Stacie was the one person she'd hoped wouldn't come through the door. Murdock would have been preferable. Or even Face. Randy would listen to another man. At least, he would listen more than he would to her.

Stacie growled audibly. "Back the fuck off of her, you pig."

After a long moment's pause, again at his leisure, Randy took a slow step back, turning toward her. His scrutinizing gaze ran up and down her and he gave a brief snort of laughter. "What're you gonna do about it, cunt?"

It was only a second later that the entire contents of the pot on the stove, and the pot itself, were hurtling toward Randy. Kelly was caught in the path of the warm, salted water and vegetables of all kinds, but she had the reaction time to be able to at least turn herself away. Randy, already drunk at eleven a.m., did not. The pot hit his chest with a thud, knocking him a few steps back before it clattered to the floor with the spreading mess of water that reached all the way to where Stacie was standing.

For a moment, Randy was too stunned to react. Then, in a movement that was faster than she would've thought he could pull off while drunk, he took a few quick steps towards Stacie. She reached back to the stove, the counter, looking for anything to use as a weapon. There was nothing, and ultimately she had only her fists. But she'd lost precious time, and her attempt to swing on him was too late.

He caught her wrist and spun her around, grabbing a fistful of her hair in his other hand. Before she had a chance to really struggle, he had her bent over the open flame of the gas stove, her hair hanging just out of reach of the fire as he pushed down on her head. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you for that, cunt!"

Kelly screamed.


	18. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

**1985**

Face was out of his chair and through the back door into the kitchen in three long strides. The entire scene hit him on a level that didn't need any time to understand or digest what was going on. Spill. Slick floor. Kelly on Randy's arm, screaming, "Stop!" Stacie pinned, grabbing the top panel of the stove for balance and leverage, pushing up against him with all her strength to keep her hair out of the flame. The adrenaline hit Face with the force of a Mack truck. Two steps and his arm was wrapped around Randy's throat, a choke clenched in so that he _had _to let Stacie go and deal with him.

The instant Stacie was free, Face spun Randy towards the center of the room and gave him a hard shove to ensure some distance. Randy blinked, surprised, as he stumbled to catch his balance. He was clearly drunk. So drunk, it took a steadying hand on the counter before he was able to get himself fully upright again.

He stared for a moment at Face, stunned, then lowered his head and growled menacingly. Face's eyes narrowed. Let him even _try _to pursue this. Nothing would satisfy Face more right now than to put this guy down. He stood still, back ramrod straight, jaw clenched, keeping himself between Randy and the women.

"Stacie, please, are you okay?" Kelly's voice was frantic and full of tears. He didn't look back to see her, but he could feel her panic from where he stood. "I'm so sorry, Stacie!"

"It's okay. I'm okay." Stacie was breathing so hard Face could hear every gasp.

"I'm so sorry. Please don't tell. Please, please…"

Face's eyes narrowed, listening to the nonsensical exchange behind him but not leaving Randy for a moment. The man was still trying to gather himself together, but he looked no less intent on following through with his inarticulate threat.

"Back it up, Randy," Face warned. His eyes darkened considerably, well aware that he didn't want Randy to back up. He wanted him to throw a punch. Just one. Just so that Face could beat the shit out of him and call it a fair fight. "Or can't you stand the thought of being put down in front your girl?"

Randy gave him a snarling smile as he flexed his fist. "Which fucking one?"

He didn't wait for an answer. In a flash, he'd advanced on Face, fist pulled back, more than willing to throw the first punch even if his footing wasn't all that steady. Good. Face took a step in to meet him. He wasn't worried about the punch, and in fact it never landed. Face threw his own. He knew he'd make contact. A quick uppercut to follow the hook and he grabbed the front of Randy's shirt, refusing to let him fall to the ground.

He backed Randy up, spinning him around and shoving his chest into the wall as he pulled the drunken man's arm up behind his back. High. His other hand grabbed a fistful of Randy's hair and slammed his forehead into the wall.

Dizzy, off balance, but apparently too drunk to feel pain, Randy screamed curses at Face and anyone who could hear, pushing off the wall. It took him a few tries before he found something halfway coherent. "Get your fucking hands off me before I fucking kill you!"

"Do it," Face growled low. "You'll be in the hole next to me before I'm cold."

Randy's head turned to the side and in a flash, he'd reached his free hand to grab the carving knife out of the holder in the counter. He was in no position to use it, but he was damn sure going to try. Kelly screamed again. Face released his grip on Randy's hair and caught his wrist. Twist and pin, and he threw Randy to the ground, controlling the knife all the way down and twisting his wrist until he was forced to drop it. Whether it was because he broke Randy's wrist or because the jackass let go, he didn't know and he didn't care. Face threw it across the room where there was no chance of either of them getting to it again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Face saw Murdock appear in the doorway, out of breath as if he'd just sprinted the length of the backyard. "Face!"

Randy had him outmatched for strength. But he wasn't quite skilled enough, especially drunk, to actually get a blow to land. Before he had a chance, Face had straddled him. There was no sign the man was giving it up and he wasn't taking chances. He pulled his fist back and slammed down. He didn't care where he hit him, and he didn't keep track of the blows. He kept going until the man's eyes rolled back.

The final blow was to Randy's temple and meant to knock him out. Face drove all of his weight through it. His knuckles splitting with the force of the impact, but he didn't feel it. Then, suddenly, there were no more threats. No more struggle. The lack of rigid muscles, that all-too-familiar thud of Randy's head knocking decisively against the floor. He was unconscious and silent, and Murdock was pulling Face up by his shoulder.

"Face! What the hell!"

Murdock pulled him to his feet, pushed him back against the fridge to steady him, and held his shoulders. "What are you doin', Face? What's goin' on? Why are you...?"

Face shook his head slightly, trying to clear things up, find something to say. As he tried to regain his bearings, his eyes drifted around the room. Kelly was staring down at the fallen figure of her brother in stunned silence. Stacie was holding her, staring at Face with her jaw dropped. As their gazes met briefly, she shook her head as if to clear it and turned back to Kelly, pushing her hair back from her tear-stained face.

"Are you okay? Kelly, are you alright?"

Murdock heard Stacie's words, and his head immediately snapped to the two of them. But Kelly looked unharmed, except for the tears. Murdock looked her up and down, then turned his attention back to Face. "You okay, Face? Face, what happened?"

"Murdock..." Shit, this was not something he wanted to explain to his friend.

Murdock let go of his shoulders, giving him some space. For the first time, Face looked down at Randy, unconscious on the floor and bleeding from his mouth and nose. He looked at his hand, also bleeding, then back up at Murdock.

Finally, he took a deep breath. The adrenaline was slowly wearing off, and he was gradually able to put coherent thoughts together. He looked over to Kelly and Stacie. "You wanna explain this, or should I?" It was unassuming, but it was clear that Murdock would be getting an answer.

Stacie's jaw worked a few times, but she had nothing. Finally, she pressed her lips closed, set her jaw, and shook her head. Kelly's eyes immediately hit the floor. Face flexed his fingers as the pain started to hit him. He could feel the blood running from his knuckles.

He pushed himself off the fridge so that he was standing fully on his feet again. "Randy was," he stalled for a moment as he fully put together the scene he had walked in on for the first time, "trying to shove Stacie down over an open flame on the stove."

"He was _what_!" Murdock spun and stared at Stacie, then at Kelly. "What the hell did...? How...?"

Kelly flinched as she looked up at him, eyes still flicking back to Randy every few seconds like she was afraid he might jump up and come at them at any second. Dazed and dripping soup from the side of her hair and shoulder, it took a couple beats before she was able to speak, her voice just above a whimper.

"Murdock?"

At the sound of her voice, Murdock turned away from Face, took two strides toward her, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Sweetheart, Kelly, what happened? What did he do?"

Face looked away. Murdock would take it from here. He flexed his fist a few times, trying to find a way to hold it that wouldn't get blood all over - damn it, it was on his clothes - and finally gave up. He glanced over and caught Stacie's gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Whatever had happened with Kelly, and Face could certainly guess that it wasn't pretty, it was Stacie who'd been bent over the stove. Stacie shut her eyes and nodded, then licked her lips as if to bring moisture back to her mouth. She took a deep breath before she opened her eyes again, head down. She took a few steps toward him, and gently took his hand in hers.

"You're bleeding."

He smiled softly as she took his hand. She needed something to focus on. It might as well be him. "Not bad." He shrugged it off. "I think I'll survive."

Stacie raised her eyes slowly, and locked on his. Unlike Kelly, there were no tears. Just an intense look. Almost pain, completely sincere. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She looked at him for a moment, then ran her fingers lightly over the back of his hand. "Come on. Let me patch you up."

**1968**

Murdock had a new goal. He _had _to learn Vietnamese. And he had to do it quickly. He wanted to actually be able to _talk _to Cai. And as much as she protested his continuous visits – he went to see her almost every day while he was waiting for his arm to heal – he could tell that she was pleased that he was making such an effort. She didn't discourage him. It was silly to think he'd master the language in a few short weeks, but he was damn sure going to have a bigger vocabulary, and a better grasp of structure, than he did right now.

To help him attain his goal, he had recruited the help of two ARVN soldiers in Nha Trang – whom he'd paid well for their time. He'd spent the better part of three weeks conversing with one or the other of them. He'd hardly noticed when Alan shipped out to wherever his orders sent him, and didn't realize he was back until he'd been there for two full days.

Vietnamese was surprisingly simple. Single syllable words and a limited vocabulary. He was picking it up faster than he'd thought he would. By the time his injuries were healed enough for him to leave Nha Trang, the little pocket dictionary was something he constantly had on him. And it was getting good use.

"What the fuck you need to learn that for?" Alan laughed mockingly.

Leaning with his back against the plywood wall, Murdock didn't even bother to look up from his dictionary. "Don't need to learn it. I want to."

"Why?"

He pulled his legs up and rested the hand with the small book on his knees. He had no real interest in fighting with Alan, and the sneering tone in his brother's voice made it clear that was exactly what Alan was looking for. Murdock fished out the tiny nub of a pencil he kept in his pocket - next to the cigarettes he now smoked – and made a quick note in the margin. He was going to have to ask the AVRN guys how to pronounce that one.

"Helps pass the time."

Alan snorted with laughter. "First you eat like them, then you talk like them. Next thing you're gonna go run off and marry some gook whore. That it?"

"Yeah, sure." He put his pencil back and turned the pages, looking for the word he needed. "You can be the best man. Make sure you have your dress uniform all pressed and ready."

Finding the page he wanted, Murdock dog eared it. Excellent, he had been right. That was the word he needed and the correct spelling. He let himself smile at that.

"You're fuckin' crazy as hell, you know that?"

Murdock carefully marked his place with a strip of foil from the cigarette pack, then closed the dictionary and looked up at Alan with a pleasant smile. "So you keep telling me."

He was still smiling as he snagged his smokes with one hand and awkwardly pulled one out. With a carefully coordinated effort that lacked grace - but made up for that lack with efficiency - Murdock managed to light his smoke. He took a deep drag before dropping the lighter and pack into his pocket again.

Blowing out a stream of smoke circles, he raised his brows at Alan. "Crazy is kinda fun. You should try it sometime."

"I prefer to fuckin' stay alive."

"That's a good plan. Did you fill Charlie in on that?"

Alan shot him one more lingering glare before he grabbed his pack from the floor and tossed it on the bed. He was checking supplies. He'd just come back, but it looked as if he might be shipping out again. He was too busy checking knives and guns and ammo and food and medicine and claymores and god-knew-what-else he had in that pack to reply.

Murdock went back to his dictionary. Alan finished packing. Then without another word, he turned and walked away. Just like every other time. But this time – for the first time – the reality dawned on Murdock that this may very well be the last time he saw his brother alive.

"Hey, Alan."

He was calling out to him before he really thought about it. Acting without thinking was becoming a little too commonplace for him lately. There just wasn't enough time to think about things. Murdock pushed himself up, a little unsteady in his haste.

"Don't get yourself killed. I've got you penciled in as my best man and I don't want to have to try and find a replacement on short notice."

Alan snorted with laughter as he turned and walked away. Murdock smiled faintly. If anyone ever made a dictionary to translate what he said and what he meant, that would translate smoothly. _Don't __die__ on __me __Alan.__ I__ love __you. __And__ you're__ just __about__ all__ I__ got __left._


	19. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

**1985**

"You know he's not going to let up, right?" Stacie said as she finished with the bandaids over Face's split knuckles.

Face's jaw set at that. "Neither am I."

She paused for a moment. "That wasn't exactly the most inconspicuous… interference."

He looked up at her, eyes serious. "It wasn't the most inconspicuous threat." She let go of his hand and he set it on the counter. "What the hell did you say to him?"

"Me?" She laughed. "I told him to back the fuck off of Kelly. Right before I threw the pot of soup at him."

"What was he doing to Kelly?"

Stacie shrugged. Face's eyes narrowed. He wasn't going to get an answer. The question was, why? Who was she covering for? And more importantly, why?

"Thank you," she offered, studying him.

"My pleasure." He didn't bother faking a smile, looking down instead at his hand. "How long do you think before I'll have to do it again?"

"Why are you asking me?"

He glanced up at her. "You know how this game works as well as anyone."

She studied him for a long moment before she finally answered. "It's been a long time since I've seen anybody stand up to him like that. But his skull is a little thick, so it's hard to tell how much of an impact it'll have on him. Frankly, I'm a little more worried about your friend than I am about you."

"Murdock can hold his own."

"Oh, I'm sure. But now Randy's wound up tight. He's got something to prove."

She didn't sound sure. Face smirked slightly as he watched her. "Trust me, Stacie, Randy isn't nearly as big and bad as he likes to think he is."

"Oh, I know that. But that doesn't mean he won't try to be."

"Well, he's welcome to try. He'll have to get through me to get to Murdock."

"So you're here to protect him?"  
>"No. But this whole charade is important to him." Face shrugged. "And he'd do the same for me."<p>

He watched her for a moment, reading everything about her. There was something there. Something she wasn't telling him. Quite possibly there was a lifetime of "somethings."

"What's he done, Stacie?"

She raised a brow. "To me? Been a harassing, insensitive, chauvinistic pig with a crush on me that makes me want to puke."

Face chuckled. "Okay, besides that."

She smirked slightly, pausing just for a moment. The smile fell as she lowered her eyes. "Well, he's been a little more than that to any guys who have gotten too close to Kelly. As far as I know, the closest she's ever been to a relationship like what she has with Murdock, Randy found out about it through a... series of unfortunate coincidences."

"Unfortunate?"

"We don't talk about it. It's enough to say…" She paused, and licked her lips lightly, lowering her voice. "He went after the guy with a baseball bat."

Face's jaw set. Unbelievable. Sometimes he wondered if there was just something about his team that naturally attracted these inbred morons. Why couldn't Murdock's quaint little "family weekend" go smoothly?

He sighed as he rubbed his thumbs over the back of her hands. "How long ago was that?"

She shrugged slightly, glancing away. "Few years ago."

Great. It wasn't even like she'd been an inexperienced teenage victim of statutory rape.

Stacie glanced back up. "There were some similar... threats, when she was young. I don't think any of them were actually followed through."

Face exhaled sharply. One thing was for damn sure; he wasn't going back to his motel. Not that he'd miss it. But there was no way he could take a chance with Murdock having to deal with Randy alone _and_keep the peace for Kelly's sake.

"Randy learned it from his daddy," Stacie continued, cynically. "And Kelly learned to bend over backwards to keep peace. Even if it meant neglecting herself, any and everything she wanted."

"Sounds like a real functional family."

Stacie gave a slight, sad smile. "Best thing in the world that ever happened to her was when her family moved up the coast."

Fine. He was here and that was that. The smile he gave her was charming, refocused.

"Let me worry about Randy, okay?"

He watched the concern and uncertainty fade as she smiled. "Gladly."

**1968**

"Good afternoon, Cai."

She looked up at him as he stopped in the doorway. He could see her trying to suppress a smile. "Evening," she corrected, pointing to the clock on the wall. "You late."

In spite of the chastising tone, she didn't seem at all unhappy.He didn't bother hiding his smile as he strolled into the room.

"Good evening,Cai," he corrected. He was later then usual, but she was still there, looking just as pretty and fresh as he remembered. "Hopefully these will help you forgive my lateness."

From behind his back he produced a bouquet of Chrysanthemums (Hoa Cuc). Thanks to his time and study with the ARVN, he knew that these where considered "Gentlemanly flowers" - something appropriate to give to a close friend. He was holding them out, smiling as he watched her reaction.

She smiled back as she stepped forward and accepted them. "Thank you."

He knew right then in there, it had been worth every cent and every second he had spent with the ARVN. In her language he asked, "{May I take you out tonight?}"

She looked back at him and smiled softly, nodding her head. "_Co_." She didn't bother protesting anymore. It simply wasn't worth the effort and in the end, she always gave in anyway.

He held out his hand to her. "{Where would you like to go?}"

"Mmm…"

She touched her finger to her lips as she spent a moment contemplating. He would let her choose. She knew the town, and knew where it was safe to be seen with a GI. Besides, he didn't really care where they went. As long as she was smiling, it was fine with him.

"{Park?}" That word he understood. The next few were intermitted. "{We... food... near...}" And she was looking at him inquisitively again.

He was still smiling as he nodded. "Sounds good."

If he was forced to guess, he had just agreed to take her to the park and then get food somewhere close by. But frankly, she could have asked him to dress like a duck and hop through town on a pogo stick and he would still be agreeing. There was just something so innocent and sweet about her, it brought out feelings of protection and wanting to make her happy.

"{Shall we go?}"

He held out his hand to her and waited to see if she would take it. There were still intricacies and cultural differences that could make something simple into something complicated. He wasn't looking to make her uncomfortable or push her boundaries. He just wanted to feel the warmth of her hand in his, and stand close enough to her to smell the jasmine scent that seemed to be unique to her.

She hesitated for just a moment, then delicately placed her tiny fingers in his outstretched hand. That contact sent a thrill that shot right though him. It was almost like the thrill of flying, except on land. He could feel the surely silly grin slowly take over his face. Carefully closing his fingers around hers, he gestured towards her bag as she shifted it over her shoulder.

"{I will carry those.}"

It wasn't a question. Gran would have given him an earful if he let a lady carry a heavy bag like that. But he didn't want to startle her just by reaching for it. The fact that he had to worry about making her flinch had the anger in side of him stirring again._ What in the hell had men done to her?_

He didn't want to think about that. No, tonight their moments were not about anger - not if he had anything to say about it. Watching her for any sign or hint of fear, he made sure to let his smile show as he move to take her bag. She hesitated, as usual. The first few times, she'd insisted on carrying the bag herself. But patience and persistence eventually won out. Now, she didn't argue. There was only the customary hesitation before she let him take the bag.

"_Cam on._"

Shifting the bag onto his shoulder, he smiled to himself. This time, he knew what that meant. He felt like he was on top of the world as he simply looked down at her for a moment. So damn beautiful and bright, trusting him. Just like that, there was nothing else. Vietnam, the room, Texas, guns, Alan… it all faded away. There was no time, no past, no future - just her looking at him with a shy smile.

He was never quite sure how it happened, but somehow he was kissing her. Holding her hand, letting his lips press against hers. It was incredible. Soft, sweet and oh so perfect. It was nothing close to scandalous – "chaste" was a better word for it - but it was still unlike anything he had ever felt or done.

Pulling back slowly, he kept his eyes on hers. "You're welcome, Cai."

Gently tucking a strand of that wonderful, silky, scented hair behind her ear, he waited long enough to make sure she was okay before he moved beside her, guiding her toward the door.

**1985**

Kelly moved slowly toward the bedroom. It was a safe place, out of the public eye. It was the best place to find out what the hell had just happened. Kelly was covered in soup and nearly shaking with her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection, like she was trying to hold herself together. Murdock waited until the bedroom door was firmly closed behind him to speak.

"Are you okay?"

She wasn't injured; he already knew that. But it didn't mean she was okay.

"Kelly?"

Slowly, her eyes came up from the floor when he spoke. Fine tremors ran through her as she stared at him. He knew that look - the confusion, the distance. It was shock. A wave of fierce emotion hit him, and he fought it back. He needed to be very careful with her; she needed that from him. He needed to keep his emotions calm.

"I'm..." There was a pause and a moment of indecision. She wanted to say she was fine; she was conditioned to say that. Swallowing hard, her eyes hit the floor again as she managed to choke out a whispered, "No. I'm not okay."

She looked so small, so scared, he was moving closer to her without thought. His arms circled her, pulling her closer and holding her tight. There was just a brief second of hesitation, then the dam gave way and she was clinging to him for dear life. He held her as she sobbed softly. Nothing would touch her here, in his arms. He'd make sure of it.

"What happened out there, Kelly?" He stroked one hand up and down her back slowly as the other arm held her close to his chest. "What did he do?"

Tears were falling. He could feel the wetness against his chest as he stroked her back calmly - all the way down and then back up, across her shoulders, through her hair. Whatever had happened, Murdock was sure it had to be pretty extreme. Face had no great love for Randy, but he'd also gone a bit overboard with the violence. He didn't do that without a reason.

Seconds faded into minutes until there was no way for him to tell just how long they'd been standing like that. He held her protectively until her quiet sobs turned into deep breaths and she'd gone still in his arms.

"Talk to me," he whispered, not loosening his embrace.

He heard her breathing hitch as she tried several times to answer him before she managed a soft, choked, "He… surprised me."

She swallowed hard, eyes flicking to the door, then back to him. He waited for her to finish.

"He wouldn't let me leave," she whispered. She halted, as if the words hurt to speak. "Stacie tried... He called her a name and she threw the pot of soup at him. He went at her. I couldn't stop him." She bowed her head again, speaking into his chest. "I never could stop him."

"You did stop him," Murdock said softly.

She tipped her head back up to look at him, her eyes confused and conflicted.

He smiled softly. "All you had to do was call, Kelly."

She swallowed hard, burying her face in his shoulder again. "I was so scared," she whispered, shuddering slightly. "He…"

She didn't finish. Murdock tipped his head down, resting it on hers. "He what?"

"He… he said I smelled like you."

Murdock was brought up short by that statement. It was not what he'd been expecting. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Even if she did, what did her brother care? She wasn't fifteen, the victim of some relationship she wasn't prepared for and didn't understand. She was a grown woman. Comments like that were way out of line, especially from a family member. Those kind of comments were confrontational. But more than that, they were territorial. What the hell kind of man saw his grown sister's boyfriend as crouching in on his territory?

"Kelly?"

She looked up at him, expression pained. He smiled softly in response, lifting one hand to stroke her cheek lightly.

"You're allowed to smell like me, sweetheart," he whispered. "You're mine."

The pain in her eyes gave way to his smile. She flushed as she lowered her head again. "You're right."

He slid his hands down to her hips, and slowly up along her sides, under her shirt. "Right now, I want you to go take a nice hot shower. Get cleaned up; you're all full of soup. Okay?"

She swallowed hard and nodded slowly in response.

As he traced the underside of her bra, he nuzzled her lightly, letting his mouth rest against her ear. "I'll bring you some clean clothes. I gotta make sure you smell like me again before you go out there."

He could feel her cheek heat against his, and he smiled gently as he pulled back. "Go on. Let me take care of everything out here."

She looked up at him for a moment before she leaned in and timidly kissed him. Then she stepped back and dropped her eyes to the floor as she slipped out of the room and towards the bathroom. He watched her go in just as Face and Stacie came out and he kept smiling until she disappeared behind the closed door. Only then did he let the smile fall as the anger set in.


	20. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

**1985**

"I swear to God, Face, if he so much as looks at her funny, I'm going to shove that man's balls down his throat."

Murdock was pacing the floor in Kelly's bedroom, fists clenching and unclenching. He looked ready enough to kill. Face hadn't seen that look in his eyes in a long time, and he didn't like it being there now. He was close to the edge. Too close for comfort.

"He's gonna be here right in that next room," Murdock growled. "And if he even _thinks_ to say _one_word to her, I'm going to kill him."

"And you'd be more than justified."

Face was calm, sitting on the edge of the bed watching Murdock pace and wondering just how hard it was going to be to calm him down. Any other time - when he hadn't just found out his girlfriend was under fire - it wouldn't be a problem. At least, it wouldn't be _their_ problem. Every family would forever have issues. Take out the emotion by stepping back from the drama and it became black and white. Solutions were clear and, more importantly, it was easy to walk away. But this was all clouded up.

"If he looks at her, speaks to her, I will pull his tongue out through his eye sockets!"

"But Kelly doesn't want that," Face reminded calmly. "You know that. And she's more important that Randy."

Murdock spun, eyes locking on Face. All that anger simply had nowhere to go. "Yes! She _is_ more important! She deserves to stand on his grave and she _will_if I have anything to say about it!"

Murdock didn't stay still for very long before he'd spun away and started pacing again. Face leaned back, his shoulder against the headboard. Murdock wasn't going to listen right now. There was too much energy and emotion raging through him. He waited quietly. Eventually Murdock would work himself to the other side of this energy and be a bit more receptive.

Unfortunately, he didn't look like he was going to find the other side anytime soon. His breathing was deep, almost to the point of labored. His hands were almost shaking as they clenched and released at his sides. The knock on the door made him spin around so fast he nearly fell over, and he pulled up short of blindly attacking whoever was coming through it by force of willpower, ignoring his instinct.

Face's eyes locked first on Stacie, then on Hannibal as he stepped in past her. "I'm assuming this is the friend you've been waiting for."

Face raised a brow and smiled casually as he gave Hannibal a two-fingered salute. "Colonel."

"Hey, Face."

Stacie was gone before any of them could speak again. Hannibal raised a brow at the quick exit, then turned to Face. "I get the impression from the atmosphere out there that things haven't been going well."

Face smiled naturally. "You might say that."

Murdock didn't speak, just walked to the window and leaned on the frame. The tension was sheeting off of him, his fists still clenching and releasing. The concern that crossed Hannibal's face was evident. "What's going on, Captain?"

Face was quiet for a moment, watching Murdock to see if he would take the opportunity to explain things. Nope. Jaw tight, eyes fixed on some random spot out in the yard, fists clenched, Murdock was perfectly happy fixating on his hatred for Randy right now.

"The Cliff notes version consist of a drunk brother who is..." Face glanced at Murdock for a second before cutting back to Hannibal. "Who is physically abusive and somewhat possessive."

"Possessive over what?"

"At the moment, seems to be just Kelly and Stacie."

"Who's Stacie?"

"The girl who let you in."

"And the drunk brother? Where is he?"

"Oh, he's unconscious in the kitchen right now."

Hannibal raised a brow questioningly.

"Kelly wants to keep the peace," Face said. "And Randy wants to fight. Randy won."

Murdock growled audibly. "Randy's either gonna settle down or I'm gonna put him six feet in a hole."

Face smiled amiably, jerking his thumb in Murdock's direction. "And then there's that."

Face knew that Hannibal was well aware that many details were missing, and he also knew that the details wouldn't be Hannibal's main focus at the moment; Murdock would be. Any personal reaction Hannibal had was well hidden behind his calm and controlled exterior.

"How is Kelly?"

"In the shower," Murdock answered, his voice ice cold. "She's not hurt."

Face's eyes narrowed a bit at that. Kelly seemed to hold scars from Randy already. From what Stacie had said, and the dynamic he'd seen, Face could venture a pretty good guess as to what those scars looked like. How much did Murdock know?

By the look in Hannibal's eyes, there was already an awareness forming, if not a plan. But he kept his tone exceedingly casual. "Sounds like she's had a hell of a day and could use a break from the Stevens family reunion."

Murdock turned to Hannibal, glaring at him simply because he was the nearest thing to aim all that anger at. But he didn't speak. He had nothing to say, just grit his teeth, jaw set. Face almost smiled. It was subtle, but Face could see what Hannibal was doing. He was getting Murdock refocused on Kelly and what she needed.

Face pushed himself just a bit further up on the bed. "Why don't you take my room at the motel?" he offered. "I don't plan on using it again. Hate to see it go to waste."

Murdock stared at Face for a moment, stunned and confused. "What? I can't leave here."

"Take my car," Hannibal invited. "Take Kelly with you. Get her out of here for a while."

"But this is her house!"

"And you both need a break," Face pointed out.

"And it's up to you to make that happen." Hannibal pulled his car keys from his pocket and tossed them to Murdock. He caught them reflexively. "She needs you, Captain."

Murdock looked away. "She's not gonna go for that."

"All depends on how you sell it." Face got up, sliding his hands into his pockets. "She doesn't want to be here any more than you do. You both think you're stuck and you're not."

_Come on Murdock, take the bait._

"Just take an hour or two if that's all you need," Hannibal prodded.

"She's hosting this damn thing," Murdock protested again. "She won't leave it."

All the casual tone dropped from Hannibal's voice as he continued. "She doesn't need to be here while we clean this up," he said seriously. "And deal with Randy."

Murdock didn't speak. Face took a step closer to him. That hesitation was there. Face knew damn well how badly he wanted to be away from this. Kelly was the only reason he was here. Ironically, she was also the only reason Randy was still breathing.

"Murdock." Face waited until Murdock was finally looking at him. "Take Kelly and go. We'll take care of the rest."

"Have her go into town with you and stop at the motel," Hannibal suggested. "She's not going to take the car or walk back here without you."

Murdock's gaze shifted back and forth between the two of them. "You guys really think I need to leave." He was so close to relenting.

"I think you _both _need to leave," Hannibal said quietly.

"And I second that," Face added. "Because it's not going to go over well when the family realizes what just happened to Randy."

"Kelly doesn't need to be in the middle of that."

"_Nobody _needs to be in the middle of that," Murdock said firmly.

Face grinned like the Cheshire cat. "I think we can handle it."

Hands still in his pockets, Face leaned back just a bit, cocked his head innocently to one side and said nothing. Murdock knew they would think of something. And Face had no intention of pointing out that he didn't particularly care to smooth things over in Randy's defense.

With complete confidence, Hannibal took a step forward and gave Murdock's shoulder a quick squeeze before he dropped his hand. "Have no fear, Captain. We'll be very diplomatic." Hannibal's smirk made his diplomatic intentions a little too clear. "You take care of her, we'll take care of them. For now."

Finally, with a deep, heartfelt sigh, Murdock relented.

**1968**

Murdock wasn't sure exactly who Cai lived with. Whoever it was, she didn't want Murdock coming into contact with them. Probably more accurately, she didn't want them coming into contact with him. As the sun sank down into the hills, he walked her as far as the alley. From there, he'd watch to make sure she got in safely, but he'd come no closer. It was this way every time he walked her home.

Still holding his hand, she followed his lead as he slowed, ducking into the privacy of the darkened passage between the buildings. In the shadows, he could barely make out her features as she ducked her head, letting a few strands of hair fall into her eyes. "{Tomorrow you leave.}"

He wasn't sure how she knew that, but it was true. His recovery time was up. His shoulder was healed as much as it needed to be in order for him to report back to the 20th SOS. It was time to return to the sky.

He had taken Patch's advice to heart. He didn't let himself think about it. He would fly soldiers and crew and they could die at any moment. It was different now; _he_ was different now. But different was not necessarily a bad thing. He was more prepared now – ready for anything. Even tragedy.

Without thinking, he brushed Cai's hair back, out of her eyes, then let his hand trace over her ear and under her chin. Gently, he tilted her head up until she was looking in his eyes. "{I will come back for you.}"

His eyes held hers. She needed more than to just hear the words. He wanted her to see it in his eyes, feel it in his promise. He couldn't think about the "what ifs." He wouldn't let himself; there was nothing he could do about them. But as long as he was alive, he would come back to her. He knew that for certain.

She looked at him for a long moment, her dark eyes reflecting what little light they gathered from the darkness around them. "{I want you to come back.}"

Reality seemed to disappear and then reform around her. That look she had - open, trusting, exposed, vulnerable - spoke to something so deep and so base in him that he couldn't have described it to save his life. She trusted him enough to show her weakness, let him in, let herself care about him. He knew, just as sure as he knew how to fly, that he would never let anything hurt her. Not even if he had to die or kill to keep her safe.

Drawn to her, his eyes locked on hers as he stepped closer, letting hand slid behind her head. "{I will come back,}" he said again.

She smiled faintly, and he let his eyes close as he slowly leaned down to kiss her. This time, unlike the times before, it was not chaste. She opened to him slowly, hesitantly, letting him in as she rose up onto her toes so that he didn't have to bend as far to kiss her. Suddenly, there was nothing but white noise as everything that wasn't her ceased to exist. He pulled her closer to him, letting his tongue slide over hers - so warm, so intimate. With one arm still holding the flowers he'd brought her earlier, she pressed her other hand to his chest and moved as close to him as she could, as if she could somehow disappear inside of his embrace. Her kiss was shy and reserved; the rest of her wasn't.

He was lost in that kiss. He was aware of everything that was her, and nothing else. He had no idea how long they stayed like that. It felt like forever, yet seemed to end too quickly. He wanted more from her. He wanted to know where this would go to. He wanted _her_. But even with as short as their time was, it wasn't right. Not just yet.

With a willpower he didn't know he had, he pulled back, just enough to look at her. "{I will come back, Cai.}" He let his hands fall as he took a big step back, already missing her warmth. "{I have something to come back for.}"

She smiled faintly, sadly, as she traced her fingers down his chest, slowly withdrawing her hand. "{You be safe.}"

He gently caught her hand and brought it to his lips, eyes on hers he bowed over her hand, kissing it lightly. "Anything for a lady."

She smiled, and took her bag from him, then moved backwards a few steps before turning and heading to her front door.


	21. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

**1985**

"Anything I need to know?" Hannibal asked, his voice low as he walked slowly down the hallway toward the kitchen.

"Left Kelly's brother Randy out cold in the kitchen," Face answered, just as quiet. "His father's going to be pissed."

"I got that much. We need to worry about the father?"

"Mom's a battered woman; Randy's keeping the family tradition alive. I haven't talked to the father at all, but Randy's got a hell of a temper. He got it from somewhere."

"Kelly's father owns this house," Stacie added. Hannibal glanced at her. She'd been waiting outside the door for them to emerge, a worried look on her face. "She pays the upkeep; he's got the title. He's not going to take kindly to you telling him to take a long walk off a short pier, if that's what you have in mind."

Hannibal continued to watch her for a moment. When he looked away again, he was grinning with utter amusement.

This was going to be interesting.

Kelly's father had already made it into the kitchen, along with her mother. Randy was as docile as Face had seen him since he'd arrived, holding an ice pack to his cheek as his mother checked for other wounds. He pushed her aside roughly the moment his eyes found Face. But he could barely stand, much less advance. He needed the counter for support.

"That's him! That's the fuckin' -" He cut off with a cry as his mother touched his forehead again, and whipped his head around to her. "Will you _stop _that!"

"The guy who knocked you out cold?" Face offered.

Randy tried a step towards Face and nearly fell over. "Fuck you!"

Face smiled as though he'd just received the nicest compliment ever - as though there were no threats in the room, no toes to tread on and no worries to be had. A sense of satisfaction warmed him from the inside as he looked at Randy. The bastard was lucky he was supposed to be playing nice this weekend.

His father's attention was equally locked on Face. Face didn't waver under the family's scare tactics. He'd be more than happy to read the same lesson planner to Daddy Dearest given the opportunity. Randy was a moot point, despite what he might like to think; the father was entirely unknown. However, he seemed just as inclined to throw his weight around in order to prove a point.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are," the man growled.

Face smiled. "Well, we could go over that again if you'd like."

"Alright, enough," Hannibal said, his voice cutting through the conversation - and Face's thoughts - with complete authority.

Face's eyes locked hard on Randy's father, but he kept his mouth shut. Hannibal would deal with dancing around this guy and Face was more than happy to sit back and watch. He'd had his fair share of handling these people. Sucking it up for Murdock was one thing; letting these guys walk all over them was another.

Kelly's father glared for a moment longer at Face, then turned his attention to Hannibal. "Who the hell are you?"

"John Smith," Hannibal answered immediately, with no hint of challenge. Face slipped his hands into his pockets, his posture slowly relaxing. Still, he was no less ready to react. "I'm a friend of Kelly's."

"Kelly sure does seem to have a lot of friends lately," the man shot. "And every goddamn one of them seems to be fixed on causing us problems."

"Well, I'm not here to cause any problems, Mr. Stevens," Hannibal said smoothly. "Please, allow me to apologize for what happened here, and offer my assurance that it won't happen again."

If there was any part of Face that was offended - or should have been offended - by the condescending speech, he didn't show it in the least. He remained quiet, watching Stevens watch Hannibal with a wary gaze. But it was Randy's voice that spoke up. "Yeah, it better not!"

His father's head snapped towards him instantly. "Shut up!" he snapped at him. "When you can't hold your own with a goddamn choir boy half your size, you don't have any right to be makin' threats."

Face felt a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his lip, an antagonizing twinkle in his eye as he put an arm around Stacie's waist and pulled her in slightly closer to him. "Choir boy" comment aside, Face had no problem playing off of Daddy's disapproval of Randy's inability to be a real man and put Face down. And that embarrassment on Randy's side of things would only be amplified by his inability to mark his territory with Stacie.

"What can I do to make this right for you?" Hannibal asked, attention focused on the older man as he continued in that serious and commanding tone. It was a direct and blatant appeal to the man's need for control and dominance. And it was working.

"Just stay the fuck out of my way," Mr. Stevens ordered. "My daughter invited you here, you spend your time with her." He cast a menacing glare at Face and raised his voice slightly. "I don't want any more of this bullshit going on in _my house_!"

Face held his gaze, not challenging him, but not making any effort to pretend to bow down to the man either. He didn't speak. He let Hannibal answer on his behalf.

"I will make sure there are no more disturbances in your home. There will not be a repeat of this."

He was giving his personal reassurance, very carefully and knowingly stroking the man's ego. But he was watching his words carefully, too. This promise had nothing to do with what Hannibal thought of the pathetic, wife-beating bully in front of him. But it spoke volumes about the respect he had for Murdock and what he was willing to do for him.

With a firm glare, the man started towards the back door, growling a rough, "Come on!" at his son. Randy set the bag of ice in the sink as he followed a few steps behind, his mother hanging back just a little with a look of frightened worry on her face.

As Mr. Stevens disappeared out the back door, Randy stopped beside Face, his voice barely a whisper as he leaned in close. "This isn't over, you fuckin' bastard," he growled low. "Watch your back."

Face's smile grew. "You're child's play, Randy," he answered quietly. "But in any case, I'm looking forward to it."

Randy didn't say another word as he stormed out the back door, closely followed by his mother. Face watched them go, then turned back to Hannibal.

"Nicely played, Colonel," he offered, glancing at Stacie. She was watching him with a concerned look, but she relaxed noticeably as he smiled and slipped an arm around her waist.

"Yeah," Hannibal answered offhandedly, looking around at the mess in the kitchen. He raised a brow as he caught Face's gaze again, briefly. "From now on, I think we should have Thanksgiving at my place."

Face only grinned as he withdrew from Stacie and crossed the kitchen to grab the pot and start cleaning up.

**1985**

They had to go to the store to get more ingredients for the soup. At least that's what Murdock had told her when he'd escorted her out to the car. She kept her eyes closed, forehead against the cool glass, as they drove. She didn't open them until the car pulled to a stop, and she opened her eyes to find that they were not in the parking lot of the grocery store, but the motel.

"What are we doing here?" she asked weakly, looking over at him.

He turned his head toward her, but made no effort to get out of the car or even remove the keys from the ignition. "We're hiding," he said softly. "Face gave me the key to his room."

"What? We can't! I -"

"They'll be alright 'til we get back."

"But Randy -"

"Is _not_going to take on both Face and Hannibal. Trust me. Besides, he's gon' be seein' stars for the next few hours at least."

"What about -"

"The other option is that we go back and you tell them to get the hell out of your house." Murdock's voice didn't waver in the least. Dead panned, completely serious, he continued without the slightest hint of emotion. "If you can't do that, we're staying right here. Because I don't know what just happened, but I won't have you within ten miles of a man who might do something like that to you. Because I'm not Face. And I would kill him."

Her eyes were wide as she looked at him. She knew by his expression that he meant those words. Everything she had been raised to believe should have made her appalled by the threat, but she wasn't. Instead, she almost felt relief at the idea that someone could stop him, just like Face had.

She was so tired, exhausted and raw, that she was unable to stop the only question she had. "Why?"

He stared at her, his gaze steady and calm. But he didn't answer. After a moment of silence, he pulled the keys from the ignition, stepped out of the car, and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door and ushering her out.

Feeling stiff and disjointed, she watched Murdock watch her. It was impossible to guess what he was thinking and she was in no position to try. She followed him without a word, glad for his hand on her back and his arm guiding her. Her mind was too busy trying to figure out what to do next to concentrate on something as involved as walking.

He led her across the parking lot and to the room on the first floor that matched the key in his hand. It fit the lock easily, and he pushed the door open to a room that looked untouched. Dropping the key to the room and the ones to the car on the dresser, he turned and closed the door behind them. She stood just inside the room, back straight, tense until she heard the lock slide home. Then they were safe. Alone with him, she was safe.

She turned to him, waiting to see what happened next. He took a step toward her, and watched his hand and he stroked it over her still-damp hair. He didn't say a word, just slid a hand behind her head, tipped it forward, and kissed her forehead softly. His touch was warm - very warm since she felt so very cold. She wanted to lean on him, hold him. But she was too uncertain, too unsure of anything, except him. At that moment she would have followed him anywhere. When he led her to the bed, she didn't even think to resist. Was this was it felt like to be taken care of? Why did it feel so very strange?

He stripped her shirt, then unfastened her jeans, hands moving over her wordlessly as he kissed her. His gentle touch broke through the odd chill that had settled in and without thinking, she moved closer to that warmth. Her mouth opened wide for him as he unfastened the clasp behind her back and drew the straps down her arms. A slow kiss, then, leaving a trail of soft kisses along her throat and down the center of her chest, he pushed her back onto the bed. She let him guide her, lifting her hips as he slowly stripped her from the waist down, then moved over her, covering her with his body.

He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. His warm presence said everything she needed to hear. Her hands moved over him, a burning need to feel him settling in as she wrapped her legs around him. Her kisses fell on his lips, chin, neck, jaw, chest, anywhere she could reach. But for every ounce of her desperation, he was equally calm and in control.

He slid inside of her gently, smoothly, pressing all the way in until he touched her core. She gasped, trying to catch her breath. She needed him; needed this - the blinding enjoyment, the fall, the peaceful contentment that came after making love with him. The completion she felt when they shared that moment of ultimate intimacy. Her nerves were already tingling. Looking in his eyes, she saw herself reflected there. She didn't have to say a word. She knew he understood.

His pace was slow and easy to follow - pressing in deep, rocking her body in time with his. Without thought, her hips moved up towards him, pulling him deeper, searching for him, for the feelings he drew out of her. His lips were brushing hers lightly with each stroke into her. As his arms tightened around her, pulling her close, her eyes slid closed. She could feel herself letting go, giving herself over to the pleasure, letting him drive her closer and closer to the edge.

The winding tension took her breath away. Everything was tingling and throbbing, his body and hers forming into one. They were the only thing that mattered; he was the only thing in her world. Trembling, she closed her eyes hard and gasped his name, her body finally contracting hard as she came.

He groaned with pleasure. A few more hard, fast strokes, and she felt him pulse inside of her. He gasped into her neck as his hips jerked on hers. The tension eased as he slowed, then finally came to rest over top of her, his erection gradually fading. Still breathing heavily, he turned his head into her neck, kissing her softly, over and over.

The slow drift back to earth was eased by the soft kisses he covered her in. She felt warm, connected, relaxed. Taking a deep breath she inhaled his scent. "Murdock, I love you."

"I love you too. All of you. Every part." His warm kisses trailed across her collarbone, over her throat, up to the soft spot just below her earlobe. "Every inch of you. Inside and out..."

He held her tight, not stopping. He didn't even slow as his kisses moved down her body, over her shoulder, her arm, all the way to her wrist, kissing and gently probing the inside of it. Her hands, every one of her fingers, then back up to the soft pressure point on the inside of her elbow.

He trailed kisses over every inch of her, all the way down to her feet and back up. His only concern was for her pleasure, and the slight chill in the room. Before it had a chance to really set in, he was over her again, pulling the bedspread up and rolling with her body against his until they were cocooned in it, safe and warm and pressed tightly together. There, he looked up at her from his back, letting her weight rest on him as he relaxed against the pillows.

He didn't speak. His eyes said everything. Love, caring, concern. Adoration. He smiled softly as he rubbed at the small of her back with his thumbs, waiting for her to either speak or rest her head and fall asleep in his arms. There was no pressure, no expectation. She watched him with a growing sense of love and peace. They were wound up tight together, and she couldn't have felt any safer or more protected.

"I want to tell you about Randy," she whispered, watching his eyes. "But I don't know where to start."

"Start at the beginning." His expression was soft, relaxed. He smiled slightly as he rubbed his fingers up and down her spine. "We've got all day. As long as you need."

She forced a smile as she looked down at him, and finally managed a slight nod. "Okay."


	22. Chapter 21

**Sorry about the confusion. With all my nonexistent technological knowledge I managed to skip a chapter (the one now labeled Chapter 18). If the computer Gods have smiled then I might have fixed it. Thanks sss979 and thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review. Your feedback is valued and appreciated. Enjoy the story!  
><strong>

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

**1985**

Murdock sat still in the driver's seat as he watched Face and Stacie step off the porch and head to her car.

"Where are they going?" Kelly asked quietly. She was thinking out loud. She couldn't really expect that he'd have an answer to that.

"I don't know. But they waited for us to get back."

Murdock glanced at her as she bowed her head, holding her forehead in her hand. "I hope nothing happened while we were gone."

"If it did, Face would warn me before he left. Besides, Hannibal's here. He's real good at keeping things under control."

Kelly turned, looking at him with a worried, somewhat pleading expression. He smiled reassuringly as he leaned across the armrest and took her chin in his hands, pulling her in for a soft kiss. She answered his smile as he pulled away, and he stepped out of the car, taking the keys with him.

Just inside the front door, he could already feel Kelly starting to tense again as she ran a hand through her hair. "I'm supposed to feed everybody. They've got to be getting hungry by now. How am I going to -"

"That's all taken care of." The voice from the doorway of the kitchen caught Murdock off guard, but it was not unwelcome. He gave a slight smile as he looked up at Hannibal. "Face and Stacie are on their way to get pizza for all."

Kelly hung her head. "My father hates pizza," she said quietly.

Hannibal didn't seem fazed. "Well, then he can choose to eat his dinner somewhere else. But you may want to go check in with your Aunt Ellen. She was worried about you."

Kelly glanced briefly at Murdock, and he smiled at her, setting a light kiss on her cheek. "Go on," he said reassuringly. "I'll be right behind you."

Reluctantly, she pulled away from him. Hannibal stepped aside as she passed him, through the kitchen and out into the backyard. But he didn't come any closer. In fact, he backed up so he could watch her - and the rest of the party - through the open kitchen window. The position Murdock took up was similar, right by the open door.

"Thanks for cleaning up," he offered, glancing around briefly and noting that there was neither blood nor soup on the floor.

Hannibal crossed his arms loosely across his chest as he grinned, apparently unfazed by the past few hours of cleaning up and governing the stress and tension of the current situation. "Housekeeping and drunk clean up is all part of the charm of Thanksgiving experience."

"I wouldn't know." Murdock's tone was cold, a little too flat. But he couldn't quite manage to spare the effort it would take to convince Hannibal that everything was peachy. No point in trying.

Hannibal watched him silently. The expression was neutral, but Murdock could feel that look. It was the look that always made him feel like Hannibal could see right through him, into those parts he never wanted anyone to see. Therapists had been trying to get there for years. Hannibal didn't even have to try.

"What's been going on here, Murdock?"

The voice was full of his usual neutral interest, but his eyes were focused and very aware. Murdock looked at him. For a long moment, he didn't speak, just looked. He could feel the cold darkness inside of him, and if Hannibal could see half of what he seemed to, he'd read it in an instant. Murdock knew it, and he didn't care.

"I need to stay away from him," Murdock said low, ice cold.

Hannibal nodded, unaffected. "Are you going to be able to hold it together for the next three days or do we need end this get together now?"

Damn it. Murdock turned and put his back to the wall, letting his eyes slide shut. That question was so simple, so matter-of-fact. If there was a problem, the simplest solution was to remove it. But at the same time, Murdock knew the question was much more than that. It was the question no one in their right mind asked a mental patient: a direct, "Can you handle this?" Only Hannibal would take a crazy man's word for his current state of mental health. And because of that, Hannibal was the only person Murdock had never lied to about how he was doing, and what he was really feeling.

He took a long moment to breathe, to think about the question, to compartmentalize everything he was thinking and feeling. He wanted to kill Randy, quite literally. But that wasn't what Hannibal was asking. More accurately, he was asking if Murdock _would_ kill Randy if this went on for another three - well, two and a half - days.

Finally, Murdock breathed deep, then looked back at Hannibal with a much calmer expression. "I can't do that to Kelly."

There was silence as Hannibal lit his cigar and took a few puffs. Then, holding the cigar between his fingers, he gestured towards the backyard. "Face and I can run interference, but I need to know just what the situation is here."

"I don't need you to run interference!"

Murdock was entirely caught off guard by his own sudden, vicious outburst. If Hannibal shared that surprise, he didn't show it. He just watched calmly as Murdock pulled himself back under control with a deep, slow breath, and tried again more calmly.

"I mean... I can handle it." His therapist would've been damn proud of his ability to maintain that neutral tone. "And it's probably better if you don't get any more involved than you already are. There's a... a lot of family dynamics here that I'm not at liberty to explain."

"And as long as it's no threat, it's no business of mine."

Murdock opened his eyes again and looked back at Hannibal. There was no anger now, just cold emptiness. "I just need to do my best to keep a low profile here. And I'd appreciate if you did the same."

Hannibal nodded as he clamped his cigar between his teeth. "We can keep a low profile. But judging from what I've seen, Randy isn't going to stop."

"No, he's not. But we don't need to encourage him."

Hannibal's eyes held steady as he casually crossed him arms. "Kelly is important to you, so she is important to us. You take care of her and we'll watch your back. If we need a more delicate plan than that, we'll deal with it when the time comes."

Murdock's expression softened just slightly, and he offered a smile that was genuine, if weak. "Thank you."

**1968**

The second Murdock set foot back on the base, he knew where he had to go - where he was supposed to be. Mud weighing down his boots, slowing his pace, he headed towards what he had run from. He didn't bother with looking around. Three weeks wouldn't have changed the camp. There would be new faces and missing ones, but the camp would remain the same. Tents, sandbags, hootches, mud - or dirt and dust, depending on the season - guns, men, boys, heat, humidity, rain, bugs, misery, camaraderie, sorrow and survival. None of that would change. Not until this war ended. Hard to do, seeing as how it had yet to "officially" start.

Jamming his hands into his pockets, Murdock kept his head down and headed to where he was needed. Every heavy, muddy footstep brought him closer and had his awareness' increasing. It felt familiar and right. There was a silent but very real awaking going on in that part of him that he had never really been able to describe to anyone. By the time he reached the hanger, his heart was beating a little faster, his eyes sharper, his body somehow more aware of where and what he was.

Just over the slight rise, past the hangar, he saw her. He was still to far away to read the tail numbers or the slip, but he knew it was her. The same way he knew his own hand. That was his chopper. His Hazel. Murdock stopped dead in his tracks and just looked at her. Recognition, pride, hurt, memories and something much more primal stirred in him, making his chest tighten.

The main rotors were tied down. He understood why it had to be done, but he hated to see it. Choppers were made to fly and keeping them tied down, restrained from the sky, seemed wrong. Maybe that was the part of him that identified with and connected to these machines. He was made for flying too, and if someone where to clip his wings, keep him from where he belonged, it would be worse than hell.

How long had she been like that? Rooted to the ground, waiting for him to come and take her home? As he stood staring at her, he barely heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Hey, Murdock." It was Maxwell, the mechanic. "How the hell you doin'? I been waiting for you to show."

Reluctantly, Murdock pulled his gaze away from her and forced a smile. "I'm doing fine," he lied. With a nod of his head towards the Huey, he asked, "How's she doing?"

Maxwell grinned with pride. "I got her all patched up and running like a top."

There was a small but genuine smile from Murdock at that. The kid was a hell of a mechanic; one of the few that Murdock trusted completely with his bird.

"She didn't give you any problems?"

"Nah, just a delay in getting some parts. Finished her up a couple days ago."

Maxwell wiped his hands on a rag and looked out at the chopper. When he spoke again his voice was softer and there was a hint of awe in it. "You must be one hell of a pilot. She was beat to hell. I will never know how in the hell you got back to base."

Murdock's own voice was soft and sincere. "She's one hell of a bird."

"Well, she's waiting for you. Go have a look see."

Maxwell was smiling at him. He knew why Murdock was here, and it wasn't for talking. At least not with people. Murdock shook his hand quickly. "Thanks for taking care of her for me."

"No problem."

Squaring his shoulders and straightening his back, Murdock walked past the sand bags and other choppers until he was standing right in front of her. When he set his hand on the warm metal of her nose, he felt it - a tingling, electric sensation. But it didn't come from outside. It came from deep in him. Moving slowly, he let his hand trail over her skin as he whispered to her softly.

"Hey baby, I'm sorry I've been gone so long." His fingers skimmed over a patch in her skin. Was that from the bullet that had pierced him? "I should have come sooner, but I got lost for a while."

He had known every inch of her. But like him, she had changed. The first time he had seen her - right after he had been named AC - he had spent hours pouring over her, inside and out. The name Hazel had come to him as he was inspecting her instruments. At the time it had made him laugh. Right now, it reminded him of his Gran.

She had spent countless hours telling Murdock stories of Celtic lore. Gran was sure her "changeling" would understand it. And he had. His mind went back to the memory of her sitting at the worn kitchen table with a red enamel bowl in her lap, telling Murdock about the Hazel tree as she snapped beans.

_"It's the tree of knowledge, HM." _

_ She had never called him Mark or that ridiculous name his mother had saddled him with. She called him HM, like it was a fine name. And anything Gran spoke with such pride couldn't be a bad thing. _

_ "Not just knowledge like you get from your books either. But creative knowledge, real knowledge. Most of what you need to learn in this life, can't be got from a book. You need to live it." _

_ Then she gave him one of those smiles. So full of understanding and love, he still felt it a decade later. _

_ "And you will live it, HM."_

She had been right, in more ways than one.

He made his way to the other side of the chopper. His hand rested on the new plexiglass, to replace the pane that was perforated by the bullet that had shattered Opie's skull. Eyes closing at the memories, he whispered a soft, "I'm sorry."

He hadn't really understood about war, or how fragile life was, how fleeting things were, or how the only minute a person had in life was the one he was in. He had learned that all right here, with Hazel - real knowledge.

With reverent care, he stepped into her, moving to the chair he had been in. She had brought him back to base, even though she was just as wounded and hurt as he was. She had done her job, taken care of him, brought him safely back to earth. And he had run, not able to face what was asked of him, or the price of what he had learned. That had been pointless. He couldn't turn his back on her or the skies. They were a part of him, so deep and so ancient, they were part of his soul. Even now, with the full true weight and knowledge of what flying in combat really cost, that didn't change. It couldn't. No matter what else happened or how much more he changed throughout life, that part would always be there.

Sliding his hands over her now clean controls, Murdock thought of the blood that had been there, that had soaked into her. Opie's, the gunner's, the wounded men on the team, his own. She had been the silent witness to their lives and their final breaths, and their blood was now a part of her. That bond he had always felt had been sealed in their blood and his own. And he would never forget it.

"I understand now, baby. It's going to be alright."

He moved back to the semi darkness of her cargo hold, now a memorial for the men who had died here. He didn't even know the names of the wounded members of the team he had lost, but he felt them. There in his chopper, he felt that connection to them. It wasn't overwhelming and frightening anymore. In a way, they were just a part of Hazel now. Their blood was a part of her fabric, and therefore a part of him. He would care for them when he flew and when he was on the ground. They were his now too. Living and learning came with a cost and he was now very aware of how high that cost could be.

"I did my best."

Tears slid out from under his closed eyes. Looking back at the flight now, from the safety of distance and her hold, Murdock could say he wouldn't have flown any different. He would have still gone in, the same way he had. Hazel, the crew, him, had been the only chance that team had. It hadn't been enough in the end, but he knew-and Hazel and the echoing ghosts of the men knew – that he had done his absolute best. It hadn't been enough to save them. But was enough to set him free and let him be what he was: a pilot.

Eyes still closed, he leaned his head against the back of the bay and let his tears drop to the floor. Each drop felt like absolution.

"Thank you." It was safe to be weak here. They understood. "I'm not going to forget."

He was getting back behind the controls. He would lead more men and some would die. But he would do his damnedest and put everything he had into it. In return for all he had to give, he would get a haven - a place to go and recover and be among the things that understood him. It wasn't what he had expected or wanted, but it was enough.


	23. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

**1968**

Hazel ran smooth, according to the mechanics. Murdock hadn't had a chance to start her up yet, but it would happen shortly. Simple mission – just a supply run. The simplicity of it would've bothered Murdock before, but right now, he was glad. He had an entirely new crew, and he needed to make sure they could all work together as a coherent unit before he took his baby back to a danger zone.

He was over in the launch area long before it was time to leave, checking over every inch of her dinged and damaged frame. The patches that had been riveted onto her sides and underbelly were scars that would never go away. But they somehow made her more beautiful. A connection; he understood what she'd been through.

He was checking the guns when a poster on the inside of the cargo bay made him do a double take. For a moment, he just stared at the naked woman. What the hell was that doing in here? Finally, with a determination he didn't know he had, he crossed to the wall and ripped the desecrating pinup off of the inside of Hazel's wall. And no sooner had he done so than he heard the voice behind him.

"Hey, man, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Murdock turned, hiding his anger as well as he could as his eyes came to rest on the man behind him. He'd met him briefly. That was his new gunner. And if Murdock had to guess, he was the one responsible for this. "This your poster?"

"Damn right it is. What the hell are you doin' messin' with it?"

Murdock turned to the other side of the chopper, reached into his pocket, flicked his lighter, and a second later sent the flaming poster down into the mud.

"What the fuck!"

"Keep this shit out of my chopper," Murdock ordered. "Is that clear, Sergeant?"

The shock was wearing off, replaced by vicious anger. But Murdock wasn't afraid. He'd been dealing with anger of all types his whole life.

"Naked ladies offend you?" the man sneered. He was setting him up for something; Murdock could feel it.

"In my chopper? Yes, they do."

"Well, that's just too fucking bad."

Murdock's eyes narrowed into slits. "You're more than welcome to find yourself a reassignment, Sergeant."

"I'd be more than happy to. But this is where I been told to go."

"Good. I would encourage you to do so. Because if you've got any issues with the rules I set in my bird, you and I are gonna go a few rounds."

"The back of the chopper is none of your concern. Back the fuck off."

Murdock took a step closer, towering over the man who was still on the ground. "This _entire_ chopper is my concern. Bar none."

The man – Jake, if Murdock remembered right - didn't flinch or back away from the intrusion on personal space. Instead, his back got straighter and his shoulders broader. "You're the only one that got a problem with it. And you stay up where you belong and you're never gonna see it. So back the fuck off, you fucking pansy ass."

Murdock's jaw set. He took a few more steps and dropped down to the ground directly in front of Jake. He was well aware that their raised voices were attracting attention, and he didn't care. "Talk to me like that again," he threatened low, "and I'll pull those stripes off your uniform so fast you won't know _what _the fuck hit you."

Jake took a step forward, his voice a growl low in his throat. "Why? Their tits too big for you? Pussy too wet? Or is it that there isn't enough dick in it for you?"

Murdock swung without even thinking. He didn't even realize what he was doing until several sets of hands were pulling him back. When he did, he was shocked. Had he really just swung first on a man who probably outweighed him by fifty pounds at least? Where the hell had _that _reaction come from?

A few feet in front of him, Jake was straining against the men who were holding him back. Muscles popping out against skin, eyes blazing, he looked like a bull ready to run into a crowd. A string of curses and names and insults were slung at Murdock, but Jake wasn't able to get free.

Murdock calmed first. He straightened, unclenched his fists, and waited for the hands holding him to let go. Jake may be bigger and badder, but Murdock knew how to work the system. Bottom line was, Hazel was _his _bird. And he made the rules. No nineteen-year-old sergeant was going to change that. He'd make damn good and sure of it.

**1985**

The conversation with Stacie was light, and ultimately quite meaningless. That also made it distinctly safe. The pheromones that were so thick he could almost smell them. She didn't want to know about his family, his friends, his upbringing, and his career. The more comfortable she got, the more she was seeking casual chitchat, heavily saturated with flirting and innuendoes.

No surprise. He'd had her within an hour of introductions.

By the time they arrived back at the house with boxes of two liters and twenty pizzas in the backseat of her car, he knew he'd have no problem eliciting another invitation to stay the night. She stepped out of the car, and struck a pose against the side of it, watching him. Her level of sex appeal - the way she carried herself, the looks, the flirting tone and smile - had been increasing all morning until it nearly matched his. It was a comfortable role, and he found that he was enjoying it immensely. It required no phony story, no delicate manipulation, no ulterior motive. She was smiling as she watched him, licking her lips in a blatant show of her interest and ultimate intent.

"You're staying at the motel again tonight?" she asked quietly.

This was too easy.

"I think at this point I need to stay a little closer to Murdock."

"To Murdock?" she challenged, brows raised. "Or Randy?"

He shrugged.

"My bed is still half-empty, you know."

Her fingers trailed down the center of his shirt, toying with the buttons. He watched her eyes, reading her smile as she toyed absently with his belt. He couldn't help but smile.

"Is that an invitation?"

She hooked her fingers into it and pulled him in closer, hips against hers. "It's a suggestion."

He lowered his hand from the car to her hip. "A good suggestion. I might have to take it into consideration."

She smiled seductively, teasing, as her fingers moved down further, lightly caressing him through the slacks. "I hope you do."

She smiled seductively, and caught his lower lip between her teeth, pulling gently. Finally, slowly, he kissed her, feeling out her resistance since they were out in the open. There was none. Her lips parted, welcoming his tongue, and he let the kiss deepen as her hips rocked against him slightly. She moved in time with the kiss, already in anticipation of that slow, steady rhythm.

He heard the footsteps on the porch turn to footsteps in the grass. More than one. One of them – he knew by instinct – was Randy. She withdrew her hand and her kiss at the same time, abruptly. The change in her was palpable, but Face wasn't caught off guard.

He smiled confidently as Randy and another, unfamiliar man behind him crossed to them in three long strides. Randy grabbed Face's shoulder, shoving him back against the car.

"Thought I fuckin' told you to stay the fuck away from her!"

If Stacie was frightened at all, she didn't show it. Remaining where she was, she glared daggers at the intruders. "Fuck off, Randy," she snapped at him. "Nobody asked you."

The words were barely out of her mouth when the man standing a half step behind Randy reached out and touched the side of her face. "Aww, relax, Stacie. We just wanna have a little chat with our friend here."

_Our_friend? Great. Randy had backup. Who the hell was this, now?

Randy barely acknowledged Stacie. His attention was focused entirely on Face. The alcohol on his breath was overpowering. "Didn't we already do this once today?" Face asked. His tone was light and condescending, but his feet were firmly planted beneath him, hands hanging in loose fists incase Randy decided to pursue this. Split knuckles or not, Face had no problem doing it a second time.

Randy glared at him, fists clenching and releasing. "The _fuck_is that supposed to mean?" he growled, his voice slurred.

Face laughed outright at that. Then he pulled in his laughter and raised his brow a bit. "How about you let me go and we all go our separate ways, huh?"

"No," Randy said firmly, shaking his head. "No, we tried that. I _warned_you."

"No, Randy," Face corrected calmly. "I think _I_warned _you_."

The man whose attention had been on Stacie pushed her aside so hard she almost fell. "You got a real mouth on you, you know that?"

Face stared at him for a moment as he stepped closer and gave Face a slight shove. "Are you kidding?" Face asked, a bit bewildered by the confrontation.

"I look like I'm kidding?"

"You look like you belong in a high school locker room, trying to pick a fight with the kid who kicked your best friend's ass." Face knew he wasn't defusing the situation with that. But he couldn't help it. What was this, high school? He was half expecting a crowd to form, chanting, "Fight! Fight!"

"You got a lot of nerve, you little -"

"Oh, give it a rest, Carter," Stacie cut him off. "This isn't the time or place to try and prove you boys weren't neutered at birth."

Whatever good and right intentions she might have had, she didn't seem to realize the danger in putting herself so close to a pissed off, drunk man. Carter's fist was up remarkably fast for how drunk he appeared to be. It didn't even seem to faze him that there was a woman between them. He simply shoved her aside and swung with enough force that when he connected with Face's mouth, it sent him stumbling a few steps back.

Randy followed suit. He had a hold of Face's lapel and a fist in his gut before Face could regain his balance. The sound of a woman's voice crying out in protest - not Stacie's - was unexpected. By the time Face regained his footing, Margaret was standing between him and Randy, facing her brother, hands on his chest. "Randy, stop! What are you doing!"

Face looked up, tasting blood, eyes trained on his two opponents through the two women standing between him and them. He was ready for anything. He didn't put it past either one of those men to go right through them. And they ought to know better.

But Randy didn't push his sister aside. And the other man, Carter, was following his lead. Raising his fingers to the cut on his lip, Face lowered his eyes just long enough to see the red.

"That's right, you fuckin' pretty boy! You bleed like everyone else."

Face's eyes narrowed with intent. "So do you," he said low, waiting to see if the Randy would back up or pursue it further.

"Come on!" Randy gestured, urging Face forward. "Bring it on!"

Margaret was focused entirely on Randy, on pushing him back towards the porch. Stacie stood by Face and waited for Carter to turn and follow suit. The yelled threats continued, and ultimately drew Randy's father, and Margaret's husband, out onto the porch. They took one look at the situation, and Andrew pulled Margaret away from the angry drunk. Randy was still yelling as he was guided in through the front door and Carter was smirking like an idiot. By the time Randy faded out of earshot, Face could swear he heard him laughing. Only then did he look at Stacie.

"You okay?"

Stacie nodded, and touched his lip lightly. "You're bleeding. Again."

He smiled. He could play the wounded duck, if that's what she gravitated towards. He'd already more than proved himself once on this front. "Think I'll survive?"

She chuckled softly. "I think so. But I'll kiss it and make it better for you if you want. After we clean up the blood, that is."

He smiled wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in close to him. "I think I may need a full body exam. Just to be sure."

She smiled. "That could definitely be arranged." She pressed closer to him and slid a hand into his as she kissed his cheek.


	24. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

**1985 **

Murdock stood on the porch with one arm around Kelly and the other waving at the cars that pulled out of the driveway. Several hours, a dozen pizzas, and too much tension later, they had survived. Day two was over.

"That's Face's car," Kelly observed as she blew a kiss to her sister. "I thought he'd left."

"Maybe they took her car."

"Whose? Stacie's?"

"Yeah."

"Stacie is staying here. In the spare room."

Murdock chuckled, watching the tail lights disappear. "Well, then so is Face, I'll bet."

As soon as the last car turned the corner, Murdock stopped waving, turned to Kelly, and picked her right up off her feet, spinning her around. She shrieked, surprised, as he twirled with her then set her back down, eyes glittering. "You wanna go run through the sprinkler in our 'dry clean only' clothes?" he suggested with a smirk.

She blinked, startled. "Do what?"

He grabbed her hand and bounded toward the steps. She realized then that he was serious, and grabbed the porch post, holding on for dear life. "Murdock! It's too cold for that!"

"It's not that cold."

"It will be if we're dripping wet!"

"Hmm…" He turned toward her, stepping in close and pushing her back against the post. She stared at him, that light in his eyes that could only be described as crazy. "_Warm_ and wet is so much better," he said darkly.

For a moment, she half expected him to start undressing her right there in the front yard. But the intense, lustful look vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, and he took off for the front door, pulling her along. She laughed, barely able to keep up as he dragged her into the house, through the living room, to the bathroom. Confused, she stood in the door and stared as he kicked his shoes off, turned the hot water on in the shower stall, and pulled her into the room.

"Warm and wet." He grinned, clearly pleased with himself, and she laughed out loud.

"Well, since this shirt really _is_ dry clean only, why don't you let me take it –"

His kiss cut her off, and pushed her right up against the wall. Caught off guard again, she only managed a quick gasp before his lips covered hers, his tongue probing for entrance. He pulled away just long enough to whisk her shirt up over her head and murmur in her ear, "Pants dry clean only too?"

She shook her head – an honest answer in place of a sensible one. Almost instantly, he turned, opened the shower stall, stepped inside, and pulled her into the still-warming water. She shrieked. "Murdock!" Tense, almost hysterical laughter escaped her as he reached behind her to adjust the temperature, pushing her to the wall. He was kissing the side of her neck as the water drenched them both. "Murdock, you're crazy…"

His eyes danced as he pulled back, meeting her gaze. "Mmm, I know." He leaned in and kissed her again, moaning as he probed deeply, his hips already rubbing hers. "And it feels _so _damn good."

**1985**

Stacie returned from the bathroom chuckling, and Face looked up as he closed the door behind her. "What?" he asked, curious.

She sat down on the bed, letting the robe fall open as she drew her legs up underneath her. "There's wet clothes all over the place in the bathroom."

Face raised a brow. "Wet clothes?"

"Yeah." She paused, and ran her fingers through her hair, reaching her other hand to accept the glass of wine he held out to her. "Thank you. Somebody oughtta tell those two that you're supposed to take your clothes _off_ before you get in the shower."

Face chuckled. "That's Murdock."

Stacie watched him for a long moment. "He doesn't talk much, does he?"

The laugh that answered her was loud. "You caught him on a good day."

"What do you mean?"

"Normally, you can't shut him up."

She smiled. "That's more like how Kelly described him." Her brow furrowed as she considered it. "He's not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"She described him as very carefree. Fun." She frowned. "He seems very… tense."

"She's tense. He's very empathetic."

She raised a brow, and smirked slightly. "You sure don't seem to be."

He chuckled. "I've got nothing to lose. No one to impress."

"Is that how you live all your life? Or just these select parts?"

He let the silence linger before speaking again, an abrupt change in the conversation. "So where are you from?"

"Around here." If she thought the sudden switch was odd, she didn't mention it. "I grew up in this area. Best friends with Kelly since we could walk. I never had a sister, only brothers. So she was like the sister I never had." She paused. "Don't take this the wrong way, Joseph, but your friend had better not hurt her."

Face was unfazed by the threat. "My friend loves her," he answered simply. "You can see it any time he looks in her eyes. You should watch it sometime. Sometime when he's _not _on stage, trying too hard to make a good impression."

She smiled. "You seem close. Like family."

"Closer than most."

"Kelly and I have always been like that. So I guess you understand when I say that I don't want to see her hurt."

Face smiled, his bare feet crossed at the ankles, leaning against a stack of pillows. "You know anyone so willing to see the betterment of someone else that they will sacrifice themselves without a conscious thought?"

"That's how you see him?" she asked curiously.

"No." He pushed himself up just enough to lightly run his fingers down her back between her shoulder. An appreciative gaze up and down her. "It's who he is."

She smirked. "And just how much of that is rose colored glasses, I wonder?"

He laughed outright at that. "That's never been my shade."

His fingers traced to her side, a bit more enticing than before as they brushed along the outside of her breast. He looked up at her, somehow dripping sex appeal and seduction. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ever so lightly

"Kelly couldn't be in better company." His eyes were somehow softer than she'd seen before as he kissed her.

She returned the kiss, but clearly she wasn't deterred. "You've known him for a long time. Do you meet all his girlfriends, then?"

"Kelly's the first. At least since I've known him."

She blinked in surprise. "Really?"

He smiled. That should tell her something about how serious this was from Murdock's side of things. Hopefully it would end her worry for the night and allow them to move on to more desirable activities. "Murdock loves her," he said quietly. "I can't make it any simpler than that."

She watched him for a long moment, then smiled. "I guess I couldn't ask for anything more."

Face smiled softly. She could probably find a way. And if there was one person in the world that could deliver, and would be willing to, it would be Murdock. He brushed his hand along her cheek and back into her hair, waiting a moment before leaning in to kiss her again.

"I'll bet," his lips brushed hers lightly, teasingly, "that I can figure out how to distract you from all of these questions for the rest of the night."

She smiled as she ran her fingers lightly across his chest. "I'll bet you're right."

**1968**

"Rye" Lopez was not unfriendly. He was also not uncomfortable about his new surroundings. Murdock had been surprised to find out that he was actually only nineteen, first tour, and had never flown a chopper before a few months ago. He was good, he was confident, and there didn't seem to be an ounce of fear in him. In fact, there didn't seem to be much of any emotion in him. He simply took things in stride, with the occasional shrug and/or fake smile. There had been no genuine reaction to anything he'd encountered so far on the base or in the air - at least none that Murdock had seen. That was a good thing, if a bit confusing.

Sitting in the back of the chopper, shirtless and shaded with his nose in a book, Rye didn't even look up as Murdock climbed up and sat down across from him. There was something about being in his chopper that felt homey, comfortable. Sure, they got shot at and Charlie tried to blow him out of the sky in her. But still, the dim interior of his Huey felt like the safest place on earth.

Pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, Murdock lit it as he glanced at the title of the book Rye was engrossed in. Robert A. Heinlein. Not what he had been expecting, but it made him smile. "I didn't picture you as a sci-fi fan."

Rye looked up and gave a fake smile. "Oh, sure. Hell, I'll read anything." He looked back at his book and finished the paragraph he was on. Murdock could tell when he was done because his eyes stopped moving. He wasn't inviting conversation, but he wanted to be ready if Murdock did.

"It's as good as any way to help alleviate the boredom."

He paused while he held out his pack of smokes to Rye, raising his eyebrow in a silent offer. He had no idea if the boy smoked or not, but it was a pretty safe bet the he either did or would start soon. Vietnam seemed to breed a need for nicotine.

"Course the boredom doesn't seem to bother you much." He grinned as Rye took a cigarette with a nod of thanks. "Nothin' much seems to get to you."

Rye chuckled at the observation. "I'm number six in a house of eleven kids. You learn to take life as it comes and just roll with the punches."

"Six of eleven?" Hell, Murdock had barely survived one sibling. "Sounds like damn fine combat training."

"Oh yeah. Basic was a breeze." Rye paused to light his cigarette. "You'd be surprised just how little those dress downs can affect you when you've had four older brothers - and my sister was worse, really - who'd do the same thing and then beat the shit out of you. Which was the one thing you knew that Staff Sergeant wasn't gonna do."

Murdock grinned, but didn't answer. He had no common ground with a large family, and he wouldn't even know where to start. Of course, that may not be a bad thing. Getting to know people – connecting with them and caring about them – meant the very real possibility of missing and mourning them when they died. He had learned the hard way that death was as much a part of this place as the mangroves. It was safer to keep a distance. It would be easier to mail what was left of the kid's possessions back to his family. Of course, Murdock had never really done anything the easy way. If he was going to fly with this kid, trust his life and his Hazel to Rye, then he _needed_ to have some type of connection.

Rye dragged deep on his cigarette and leaned back on the wall, closing the book on his lap as he studied Murdock curiously. "So what's your story?"

It was such an open ended question, it wasn't clear just what he was asking. Murdock dragged on his cigarette to buy himself a few seconds time. "I was a fighter pilot. Converted over to choppers when they asked for volunteers."

"Fighter pilot." Rye eyed him curiously as he repeated him. He smirked, not at all confrontational - in fact, he sounded almost like he was joking - as he continued. "That got anything to do with why you got such a stick up your ass?"

Murdock laughed heartily at that. He had been called many colorful and creative things, but that was a first. His laughter died down but he was still smiling when he said, "Aww, hell, kid. Wait 'til you get to know me better. You may find yourself wishing I had a stick up my ass just to straighten me out some."

He couldn't fault Rye for coming to that conclusion based on what he had seen, but it was so far from what Murdock was, it was just damn funny to him.

"Some of the other guys were saying they don't like to fly with you."

Murdock nodded. "Yeah. That's true enough."

"Why?"

Murdock leaned over and grabbed the empty metal can that used to hold beans, and tapped into it. No one, not even him, used his bird as a giant ashtray. "You may as well know right now, I ain't okay with strafing villagers with a 50 cal, just to watch 'em run. And I ain't okay with flying FUBAR. And if I fly with anyone who is okay with that, then I got a problem. One that I won't let lie."

There was no challenge in that. It was just how it was with him, and Rye may as well know that now. No sense getting to know the kid if he couldn't live with the fact his AC was willing not just to burn his bridges, but blow them sky high.

But Rye only shrugged. "That's cool, man. Everyone's gotta have something they feel strongly about."

He dragged on his cigarette, perfectly relaxed. Murdock had to smile. There was one big hurdle out of the way. Fact was, flying with Murdock could make this kid real unpopular in these parts. The fact that he was damn good only carried so such weight.

"So what is it that you feel strongly about?"

It was a casual question, but one that he suspected would tell him a lot about this kid with a demeanor so calm, Murdock would have expected him to be way older and way more experienced.

"Me?" Rye chuckled as he finished his cigarette, and tossed it out the side door, into the mud. "I feel real strongly about surviving the next couple months and getting the hell out of this god-forsaken country. Other than that? Not much bothers me."

Murdock smiled at that as he watched the kid go back to his book. He and Rye were going to get along just fine.


	25. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

**1968**

Murdock didn't have the slightest idea how Alan, hundreds of miles away, had heard about the altercation he'd had with his gunner. People talked; he knew that. But it seemed like a hell of a long way for the information to travel and without any real purpose. More serious fights broke out all over the country every single day. How this one had gotten relayed back to his brother, he'd never know.

Alan was drunk, and surrounded by his buddies. He would ridicule even if they didn't seem all that interested in the show. He thought he was funny, and they humored him with their chuckling.

"One of these days, someone's gonna hand you your ass for all this bullshit you pull. Actin' like you're so much better than the rest of us grunts."

Murdock sighed. Alan was the one who had problems with his rank, not him. It was just one more time that his brother was looking for a fight, for a place to lay his problems. But Murdock had played this game with him long enough to know the only chance he had of coming out on top was to not give Alan the reaction he was looking for. Head to head, anger to anger, Murdock would lose every time.

"Aw, gee, Alan. I didn't know you cared."

"I don't."

Murdock smiled. "Come on, let me buy you a beer."

He had no interest in keeping his brother drunk. But a beer was a peace offering, something that soldiers did with other soldiers. A respectful way to bury the hatchet without fists. More than anything, Murdock needed to reach his brother. Everything else in his life had become transient. He needed it enough that he was willing to let his brother use him to vent on if that was what it took.

"What are you drinking?" he offered.

Alan snorted with laughter. "No thanks. I don't drink with fags."

Murdock froze. Alan thought that was funny, but the feigned laughter from his two friends stopped. They eyed Murdock warily, not entirely sure how to take that. Damn it... He couldn't let that go unanswered. Too many people had heard it. But if he got too pissed, not only would it feed Alan, it would make a scene and set off gossip that would spread all over the base. That was something he couldn't afford.

Careful to keep any shock or hurt out of his expression, Murdock shrugged. "Alright, then how 'bout I buy us a couple of whores instead?" He was grinning as if it sounded like a damn fine idea, in spite of the fact that his stomach turned at the thought. His only comfort was the fact that he knew his brother wouldn't take him up on it. "We can have some fun, then we can get that drink."

Alan looked at him as if he'd just grown a second head. As if he was trying, for a few seconds, to figure out if he was serious. Finally, his mocking laughter resumed. "You wouldn't fuckin' even know what to fuckin' _do_ with a fuckin' whore."

Funny how his vocabulary suffered even worse when he was drunk. Murdock kept his sigh purely internal as he shrugged and gave an easy laugh. "Okay, Alan, if you ain't up for some fun. But don't say I didn't offer."

It was time to get moving, and let Alan get back to his buddies and his drinking. Whatever it was he felt he needed to prove, it could damn well end up getting Murdock jumped, or even killed. No matter how much of a hurry he was in to makes some kind of bond with Alan, it wasn't going to work if Murdock got hit by friendly fire 'cause his brother was trying to prove a point.

Nodding to the guys around him, he turned and oh so calmly headed for the door. He was almost there when he caught Alan's low-key words to his buddies. "Nah, he ain't gay. Just fuckin' square. Twenty-four years old and never had a woman."

He shouldn't have stopped, he shouldn't have flinched, but it was just like Alan to land a good solid punch to his gut. The statement was followed by a round of humiliating, mocking laughter that took Murdock's breath clean away. In a way, it was worse – more personal – than the first accusation. He knew he wasn't gay. But this one was true. How in the hell did Alan know that? Was he wearing some kind of sign? Was there something in him that they could see? If there was, how in the hell was he ever going to get any type of respect?

Closing his eyes tight, he tried to ignore the laughter ringing out behind him. He forced himself to keep walking, to push his way out the door. He was a man; he knew that. A man took care of the woman he was with and didn't just fuck anything he could pay for. The laughter stung not because he really gave a damn what those guys thought of him – he'd stopped caring about the laughter of strangers long ago – but because it was his brother was leading the pack. The only person left alive in the world who had any idea how far Murdock had really come, the only person from his past, thought everything about him was a joke, not even worth enough to hate.

For once, he was relieved to find that it was raining. Stepping out into the warm, heavy shower, he made no effort to hide his face from the rain. Instead, he tilted his head up to the sky and let the rain wash away the tears from his eyes. Damned if he would cry for that asshole. At least not when he was able to feel the tears on his cheeks. Thank God, all he felt now was the rain.

**1985**

There were tears on Kelly's cheeks – warm and salty on his lips. "You okay?"

"Don't stop…"

She moaned softly as Murdock pulled her body up, tighter against his. Rocking with her, braced with one hand on the mattress and the other supporting her weight, he dropped his head to kiss her exposed throat. The taste of her skin fired off pleasure sensors in his mind that he hadn't even known existed.

"What do you need?" he whispered as he gently lowered her back down and raised his head to look at her face.

Her eyes were closed, and she squeezed them tighter. "I don't know."

His hand now freed, he touched her lips gently, then trailed his fingertips lightly along her jaw. "Just relax, Kelly," he whispered. "Don't try so hard. Look at me."

She opened her eyes slowly, and watched him as he smiled down at her.

"Just take it easy…"

She relaxed gradually as his mouth closed over hers, and moaned again, sliding her hands up his back, clinging to him as he rocked their bodies together in slow, steady rhythm. The pressure built, clenching the two of them tighter and tighter as he whispered into her ear – soft words to keep her focused on what she was feeling, what he was doing to her until he finally felt her tense beneath him.

"Kelly, you feel so good…"

A high, quiet sound in the back of her throat, and she locked her ankles behind his back, writhing as she came. He slowed, let her ride out her pleasure, and smiled as he watched her face. Her pleasure and passion and contentment were written there, even in spite of the tears. He wiped them away gently. If she wanted to talk, she would. But with as stressed as she'd been lately, the tears were probably a _good_ thing, unless she said otherwise.

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked back up at him. "Are you okay?" Her voice, like the voice of an angel, was soft and concerned. "You didn't…"

She trailed off, biting her lip. He smiled reassuringly as he brushed her hair back from her face. "It's okay. As long as you're satisfied." He traced her lips lightly with the tip of his finger. "Are you satisfied?"

She nodded, and he smiled as he nuzzled her gently. He wasn't half as surprised as she was by his lack of stamina tonight. It was the meds. This particular set they had him on now - the ones that he hadn't quite gotten completely out of his system - wreaked havoc on his sex drive. He was glad he'd been able to last as long as he had. Especially after the motel, earlier. But she didn't need to know that. She didn't need to think about it. If she was satisfied, that was all that mattered.

He spent long moments kissing her, hands exploring, soothing, easing her tense muscles until they slowly relaxed. Finally, he moved to her side, pulling her in close, smoothing his hand over her hair as he kissed her, over and over, and finally stilled with a quiet, whispered, "I love you."

Looking up at him, she smiled. "I love you, too."

Her hand was running over his chest, fingertips raking through the hair there. For a few moments, there was only still and quiet contentment. He sighed as he stroked her warm, soft skin. There was no place in the world he'd rather be. Every night he spent alone, he eased himself to sleep with the memory of moments like this. Every morning, he drove himself out of bed with the knowledge that he was one night closer to being with her again. He loved being with her. He loved everything about her.

"Can I ask you something, Murdock?" Her voice sounded strange in the hush that had settled in the darkness. "It's kinda personal."

He opened his eyes and glanced at her, but didn't have a chance to respond before she continued. "I would understand if you say no."

He laughed softly at the rush in her words, and the worried expression on her face, shadowed by the single candle on the bedside table. He turned onto his back and tucked his arm under his head. The other circled her, keeping her close. "Ask me anything, sweetheart. I got nothing to hide from you."

She gave a shy smile at his response, relief and embarrassment in her expression. He smiled comfortably back at her, stroking his hand up and down her spine. He was relaxed and comfortable. He knew he'd gladly tell her anything she wanted to know right now, even if she didn't know how to ask. "It's just that… I feel safe with you. Like I could say anything."

"You can," he assured her.

"Yeah, but…" She trailed off, licking her lips, fumbling with her words. "Okay, here goes."

He laughed softly. "I thought this was a question, not a confession."

She blushed slightly. "Well, it is. I mean, it's both, but… Well, you already know…"

She stopped as he stroked her hair gently, fingers trailing down the side of her face. She leaned into the touch, and he smiled softly. Seeing that vulnerable, exposed look on her face made him want to make love to her all over again.

"It's just that… Well, you know I haven't…" She took a deep breath, and shut her eyes, gathering her thoughts. "I haven't been with a lot of guys."

"None, if I remember correctly," he said softly, offering her a bridge to the conversation. "Before me."

"I just wonder…" She licked her lips and looked back up at him again. "Have you, um…?"

"Been with a lot of women?"

It was an intimate question, and she was still entirely new to the idea of being able to ask such things. He wasn't surprised by her inability to find words, or the blush that crept into her cheeks when he offered them for her. "Yeah," she whispered softly.

He tipped his head slightly, curious. He wasn't offended or upset by the question in the least, but it seemed strange. Nobody had ever asked him that before. "Five, including you. Two of those were single encounters, not relationships." He moved his hand slowly to her shoulder and rubbed gently. "Why do you ask?"

Her hand on his chest stilled, as she tried to figure out how to answer his question. She was uncomfortable, that much was clear - as was the conflicting emotions, discomfort, need, worry, and maybe fear. All of them conspired to make her words difficult to find. "It's just that I'm not sure," she finally whispered.

"About what?"

She paused, biting her lip. "How much are you supposed to share with someone you love? I mean, you know better than I do…"

"I'm not sure about that," he admitted quietly. "The relationships that I've had… They were very different from this. More complicated."

She stared at him in blatant disbelief. "You mean this isn't complicated?"

He laughed softly. "I said _more _complicated."

"This seems pretty complicated to me." She touched the side of his face softly. "You're the sanest man I know and you live in a psych ward."

"If I'm the sanest man you know, that's not saying much, sweetheart."

"And your friends are on the run from the military. And then there is my family." She looked down. "Sometimes I think all of them should be in a psych ward. Or maybe I should."

He pulled the blanket up around her shoulders as their bodies slowly cooled. "This may not be normal, but it's not..." He paused for a long moment, considering his words. "Those two other relationships I mentioned? They were both right smack in the middle of a war. And neither one of them were ever..."

He trailed off, shaking his head. Normally, he made it a point not to talk, or even think, about those days. It was a short list of people who even knew they had existed as a part of his life. Richter knew, and knew not to talk about it. Alan knew, but he was long gone. Face knew bits and pieces. But it was one of the few secrets he still maintained, even from the team. It was too personal. Too painful.

"It was just complicated," he continued quietly. "That sort of thing... sure, it happened. I know a couple guys who married their Vietnamese girlfriends. But it was usually because they were pregnant or something like that. It was never intended to be like... what we are."

He glanced at Kelly, and read her worried expression. "There were cultural taboos," he finished, barely audible. "We were the enemy. That sort of thing wasn't just swept under the rug because you fell in love."

Kelly dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry Murdock," she whispered, sincerely. "I wasn't thinking. You don't owe me an explanation."

He smiled softly at her, and moved his arm out from under his head, finding her hand and raising it to his lips. "It's alright, Kelly. You don't need to apologize."

Her hand went back to his chest, tracing one of many long, thin scars. They were hidden by his hair, but the hard scar tissue was easy to feel out. "It's just that you're so kind and good and gentle. I forget that you were in a war. You're nothing like I was raised to believe soldiers are."

The look on her face as she realized she'd brought it right back up, along with the realization of the wounds her fingers were tracing, was one of pure horror. "Oh, geez, I'm so sorry, Murdock."

He smiled, lifting her and pulling her over top of him before he put his arm back under his head, rubbing up and down her back again with his other. "It's okay, Kelly," he said softly. "If I didn't want to talk about it, I wouldn't. But I can't think of many things," there were a few, but for entirely different reasons, "that I wouldn't be comfortable telling you."

She stared down at him, her eyes full of shadows from the flickering candle light. He couldn't keep the smile off of his face. Every time he looked at her, she was more and more beautiful. "You've got all of me, sweetheart," he whispered. "Even the parts that hurt are yours."

"Really?"

He smiled faintly as he leaned up and kissed her lips lightly. "Maybe even _especially_ the parts that hurt. They're the parts you make feel better when you share them."

She smiled softly, and lay her head down on his chest, her ear against his heartbeat. Sliding her fingers across his collarbone, down his arm and back, she relaxed slowly. And he smiled as he cradled her close and waited for her weight to rest on him, and for the sound of her deeper breathing as she fell asleep.


	26. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

**1968**

Murdock wasn't expecting anyone to have the slightest interest in him. Sitting alone in the park and staring out over the ocean, he had just assumed he would be left alone. He wanted it that way. He needed to lick his wounds. He needed some time and space to put himself in order - to patch up that gaping hole that Alan had made. Again. It wasn't new, wasn't surprising. But somehow knowing what to expect didn't make it hurt any less.

Why – or maybe better, _how_– did Alan hate him so much? Twenty years and he still couldn't figure it out. Even here in this hell, Alan make it crystal clear he would rather die alone then have Murdock actually care about him. Why? What was it about Murdock that was so horrible he couldn't stand the sight of him? Most people grew out of sibling rivalry. But Alan had taken it to a whole new hateful, hurtful level as an adult.

Maybe Murdock really was crazy. Who in the hell but a crazy person would love somebody who had nothing but contempt for him? It wasn't enough that Alan hated him. He was on a mission - just like when they were kids – to make sure everyone he met knew that Murdock was a joke to him. His thoughts rested there, unpleasant memories rising to the surface, and Murdock shut his eyes hard.

_"You __fucking __ran __away,__Mark.__You __couldn't__ take __it,__ and__ I __made __it__ through__ without __your__ help. __Far__ as__ I'm __concerned,__ you __can __fucking __go __to__ hell__…__"_

When the hands suddenly came over his eyes, he had to fight back the urge to strike out at whoever was behind him. It was only the fact that the hands were so small, and so light, that stopped him.

"Guess who!"

She must have learned that phrase as a whole, because she said it without halting, and with hardly any accent at all. He let his eyes stay closed against her small hands, but something in his chest was too tight to answer. She had found him. How had she found him? Suddenly, he wasn't sure of anything.

As much as he didn't want her to see him like this, he didn't want her to leave. Her scent, her voice, gentle hands – almost childlike – seemed to makes the confusion and pain a little more distant. Swallowing hard, past the lump in his throat he finally managed, "An angel?"

She laughed lightly as she rounded the bench and sat down beside him. "I not know what is angel," she said, her tone as bright and happy as her eyes.

"A gift from God," he explained quietly, not sure if she would understand the definition and not sure he really cared. What was she doing here? How had she even known to find him here? Or that he was even in Nha Trang at all? Maybe more important than all of it, how much time could he have with her? He was on a three day pass.

Suddenly, she was the most important thing in the world.

His hand was in her hair, running along her face and neck. She was real, and she was here. His heart seemed to stop for a second. A small smile escaped as he asked, "Why are you here?"

"Why _you _here?" she replied with mock accusation. But she was trying to contain her laughter. "You come Nha Trang, you no come see me?"

His hand dropped away from her and then down. He had been planning on seeing her tomorrow, after he had patched up with Alan tonight. Anytime he came to Nha Trang, the first day was spent patching up damage he wasn't sure how he'd done.

_"No __thanks. __I__ don't__ drink __with __fags."_

The memories of his brother's words and laughter had him closing his eyes again, trying to hide the hurt from her.

_"Twenty-four__ years __old__ and__ never__ had __a __woman.__"_

He grit his teeth, jaw clenched down. Damn it, he didn't want any part of Alan anywhere near something as innocent and beautiful as Cai. But he wasn't able to stop it. It was too fresh, too close; and he was too damn weak to keep it away.

As he forced himself to look back up at her, he saw that her smile was gone. In the course of thirty seconds, she changed from happy and teasing to worried, sad, and serious. "You go home?" she asked quietly, barely audible.

That sadness in her voice made his chest tighten. "No, no, no, I'm not…" He was talking fast – anything to get that look out of her eyes. "I'm not leaving. I just…"

He didn't know how to finish. Just what? What could he possibly tell her? He didn't even understand it himself. He forced a smile - the best he could – and stammered for a better answer. "I'm not leaving, Cai. I just had a bad day, that's all."

The look in her eyes wasn't entirely trusting, as if she'd heard those words before. Letting his thumb slide over her wrist, he added quietly but emphatically, "I'm _not_ leaving you."

She searched him quietly, then slowly raised her hand to lightly caress the side of his face. That one tiny movement from her broke something in him. There was no telling how many social taboos she'd committed with that one act, but she didn't hesitate. Her entire focus was on him. For the life of him he couldn't tell if that was good or bad. All he knew for sure was that her feather soft touch had him leaning into her, wanting and needing to be closer to something so perfect, so right, who _wanted_ to touch him.

"Before you have bad day," she whispered. "Now you with me. Now you have good day."

Holding her hand to his face, he leaned forward until their foreheads touched. He shouldn't be doing that; it wasn't smart and could cause her trouble. But he couldn't stop himself. And if he was honest, he didn't care. The selfish part of him needed her touch more then he needed air at the moment.

"You are the best thing in my life, Cai."

He was shocked to realize that was true. That soft touch, her words, her understanding meant more than anything to him - more than even flying. He'd only known her for a few months, a few days at a time except for the three weeks of nursing a broken arm. But he was truly, genuinely in love with her. And it was a foreign feeling – frightening and calming at the same time.

She watched him silently. He could feel her tension slowly ease away as she looked at him and whispered softly, in her own language, "{Right now, you are the same for me.}"

**1968**

She stared up at him quietly, eyes black in the dim light. Leaning over her, he stroked her hair, the side of her face. She was so soft. So innocent. He shook his head slightly at the mere thought that he might defile her with all that he was. "We don't have to do this," he whispered. He hesitated, licked his lips, and tried again – this time in her language. "_Khong__ can__… __phai__ lam_?"

She smiled, lying still and vulnerable on the cot beside him. "I understand," she whispered.

He gave a slight laugh at that, and lowered his eyes. He had a feeling she understood at least twice as much English as she let on, but that was neither here nor there. He swallowed hard as he looked back up at her. "So… how do you say 'Are you a virgin?' in Vietnamese?"

She tipped her head, studying him curiously with that look that told him she didn't understand those particular words. He smiled softly as he leaned down to kiss her lips lightly. She returned it, and they spent long moments in the slow, gentle caress. He smiled as he drew her lower lip between his teeth, nipping gently. She giggled, and nuzzled him gently.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed as he returned the soft, affectionate gestures - his nose against hers, cheek to cheek, lips to lips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You not hurt me." She kissed his jaw feather lightly, and his eyes slid closed involuntarily as he felt the warmth of her breath on his neck.

"_Khong_," he agreed softly. "Never. _Khong __bao __gio_."

He leaned into her touch, the delicate fingers on the side of his face, tracing his cheekbone. As her hand slid back into his hair, fingers spread, he claimed her lips again. Soft and slow and gentle… and so deep. He could feel the blood pooling in his groin, that unmistakable flutter in his chest. God, that felt good. He shut his eyes as he rubbed slightly against her leg, just enough to ease the burning need for touch.

"You make love," she whispered. Her warm, moist breath tickled his skin.

His own breathing deepened, and he felt something very warm and very heavy settle way down deep inside of him as he touched his lips to her ear. "Do you want me to? _Ban__ muon_?"

"_Co_."

That was a yes.

He took in a deep, slow breath as he ran a hand down her side. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and he moved an arm behind her as he turned onto his side, pulling her close. His other arm, he slid beneath her head and around her shoulders. Their kiss was slow and deep, hesitant and needful at the same time. Gently probing and exploring deeply…

He found her hand, and turned just slightly, further onto his back. Careful not to pull away from the kiss, he guided her hand down, pressing it to the front of his pants. His eyes rolled back at the gentle pressure, the warmth of the touch even through his fatigues.

"Touch me," he pleaded, into her mouth. "_Cam__ thay__ toi_." He didn't know if he'd said it right and he didn't care.

She understood. He groaned as she rubbed her palm against his slowly-hardening shaft. His hips pressed up against her hand almost involuntarily, and he ran his fingers lightly up her arm, along the loose, silky fabric of the _ao__ dai_. He wanted it off. He wanted to touch her. More of her…

As his fingers fumbled with the buttons on the right side of her chest, hers were working at his pants. She achieved her goal first, and slid her hand carefully inside. The tease of her hand through only the thin layer of his boxers was enough to make him whimper unashamedly.

He pushed her back as he finished with the buttons, and sat up next to her. Eyes locked on hers, he slipped two fingers – one from each hand – into the opening he'd created and slowly parted the two sides. She withdrew her hand, and set her arms on either side of her head in a relaxed, submissive pose. He could feel her stare as his eyes ran down over her, his heart beating faster with every inch of skin that was opened to his eyes.

He stripped her slowly, gently, kicking off his own clothes in a rush. But he didn't really _feel_the nakedness until they were all on the floor and he laid down beside her again – skin against skin. His heart was beating so hard in his chest, he thought it might burst. His lips parted as he ran his eyes over her entire body. It wasn't a lecherous look. She was so beautiful, so confoundedly gorgeous, that he was almost afraid to touch her.

"You okay?" she whispered.

He swallowed hard as he looked back up at her, and nodded.

"You nervous." She reached a hand up to the side of his face, then back into his hair. The confused look on her face turned suddenly to one of surprise. "You one time?"

He laughed tightly, lowering his eyes away immediately. "You one time," he repeated under his breath. "Now why didn't I think of that?"

She didn't speak, only stroked the side of his face gently. But as he looked back up at her, he saw that she was still waiting for an answer. He swallowed hard. "If I said yes," he winced at the words coming out of his mouth, "would you think less of me?"

She didn't understand. He could tell by the look on her face. He lowered his eyes, and hesitated a long moment before he looked back up, slowly. "_Co_."

He felt his breath hitch at the uncomfortable vulnerability that came with that one simple word, but he forced himself not to look away. The smile was slow to cross her lips, but genuine. She caressed his jaw lightly, and touched a finger to his lips, tracing them. Finally, she slid her hand back into his hair and raised her head to kiss him slowly. He returned it, the slow, comfortable rhythm boosting his confidence. This part, at least, he knew he did well.

"You touch, HM," she whispered as she nuzzled against him, her cheek on his. "Feel good."

Her other hand slid between them. He closed his eyes and gasped as her fingers closed around his shaft, stroking him slowly. He could feel himself swell as she coaxed him to a full, hot erection. Her delicate fingers, her warm, soft touch, felt better than he ever could've imagined.

"Feel good?"

He groaned as he dropped his head to kiss her again. "God, Cai, it feels incredible."

The hot rush of pressing inside of her soft, yielding body was at once the most beautiful and most terrifying thing he'd ever experienced. He almost lost control right then and there, as her tight muscles gave way just enough to accommodate him. She was like a sheath around him, and his breath caught in his throat as he shut his eyes, focusing on his control.

He didn't realize how rapidly he was breathing until he felt her finger against his lips. "Feel good?"

He opened his eyes again to see her smiling. He nodded, unable to speak, and kept his gaze locked on her as he lowered his head again to kiss her. She moaned into the kiss, a sound that was so warm and satisfying it made him shudder in and of itself. Bodies joined, tongues and arms and legs entwined, they rocked together as one. He could feel his control slipping, and he watched her eyes as he felt every muscle tense and tighten in anticipation of release. "Cai…"

She moaned again, wrapping her legs around him tightly, and he gasped as he released inside of her, his hips thrusting erratically, forcefully. His mind was white, and every nerve in his body cried in pleasure. He untensed all at once, and dropped his head to her shoulder. Words he didn't even understand were tumbling out of his mouth. "_Xin__ loi__… __Toi__ xin __loi__…_"

"No," she whispered, stroking his hair softly. "No sorry. Feel good."

He was too tired to protest. He let out a deep sigh as he collapsed beside her, gathering her close, his lips against her shoulder as he struggled to catch his breath. She stroked his hair gently as his breathing gradually slowed.

"No sorry." She turned her head and kissed his forehead gently. "Good, HM. Much good. Many good?"

"Very good."

"Very good."

He shut his eyes, relaxing in the warm, comforting afterglow. The soft stroking of her fingers felt incredible, and he was very close to drifting off into sleep when he heard her voice again.

"You different."

"Different from what?" he asked quietly. "_Sao_?"

"You GI." She paused for a long moment. "No one time."

He sighed. "Yeah, I'm different. And there's a reason for that." He opened his eyes and tipped his head to look at her, but didn't pull away. "I'd explain it to you, but I don't know all the words."

"Talk." She smiled softly at him. "I listen."

The sigh was deeper this time, more heartfelt. When was the last time anyone just wanted to listen to him? He kissed her shoulder, over and over again as he felt her touch wander from his hair to the back of his neck, light and gentle and comforting. He let his thoughts wander and come back, and finally he sighed.

"I always had this vision," he started quietly. "What love is supposed to look like. Love and happiness and acceptance and… just about everything that was important. Everything that meant anything to me. All my life."

He hesitated a moment. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was almost glad she didn't understand his language fluently. It made things like this so much easier to reflect on out loud when nobody else could really comprehend them.

"There's a certain way that it's supposed to look, it's supposed to feel. My grandparents had it. Real love. It wasn't always romantic." He frowned as he considered that. "In fact I hardly ever saw them show affection. But they loved each other. You could tell in the way they looked at each other and the way that…" He trailed off with a deep, heartfelt sigh, and shook his head slightly, closing his eyes again. "The way they taught me about how when you love somebody you never want to be with anyone else. I wanted to love somebody that way. Forever."

"_Tai__ sao __ban__ khong_?"

He sighed. "I don't do it because I can't. That's not how life is. At least, not anymore. Not out here." He winced as he considered more and more reasons why he could never have that. If he stacked them one on top of the other, he could probably touch the moon. "I had a man die sitting right next to me, Cai. It could've been me. It probably _should've_ been me. And it made me realize that…"

He trailed off, but his thoughts ran full speed, around and around the same tracks. Opie dying beside him had made him realize a lot of things – that he wasn't invincible, that he was scared. Most importantly, it made him realize that he could die out here without anyone giving a good god damn, without anyone having really seen him. That fact was so much more terrifying than the thought of death in and of itself. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, regrouped his thoughts.

"All my life, Cai, I've been _waiting_ for things. Maybe that's why... Maybe they've all got this figured out. They all already know. That's why all the drinking and the drugs and the sex and…" He shook his head. He could go on forever with any number of self-medications that the soldiers around him used. "Maybe that's why Alan is the way that he is, just living for the moment and not caring about anything or anyone else."

He pulled away, and looked up at her. "But living for the moment, that's not _living_ for me! It's not what want."

She was watching him quietly, calmly, almost as if she understood. He knew she didn't. She couldn't. She didn't speak his language, much less understand words that he couldn't get to come together. He forced a tight smile at her effort as he touched her lips gently with his fingers.

"I know that… I know this isn't forever. With you, here. I might like it to be, but I'm not stupid. And you're not either. But it's closer to living than anything else I've ever felt. And I really _could _die tomorrow."

She shook her head, and reached up to stroke the side of his face. "No say."

He turned his head and kissed the inside of her wrist. "If I did… at least I'd be able to say I made love to you. I've felt what this feels like." He looked back down at her and smiled softly. "Even if it's not forever. Even if it's just for a little while."

She studied him curiously, her brow furrowing slightly. "You love?"

He hesitated a moment. Love was supposed to last forever. This couldn't. Or could it? He could die. But what if he didn't? He suddenly realized that he would never go back to the States without her. "_Co_," he whispered softly. "_Anh__ Yeu __Em._"

She watched his eyes for a long moment, then lowered her eyes between them. He could feel her fingers toying with his dog tags, hear them clinking softly on the chain. "You love," she whispered. "But you GI. War over, you go home. _Linh__ khong__ tro __lai_."

"What if I stayed?"

She stared up at him, and shook her head slightly. "No understand."

He leaned down, forehead against hers. "I want to be with you, Cai. I'm not leaving you."

Her look was still confused as he pulled away slightly, just enough to look into her eyes.

"What do I have to do to be with you forever?"


	27. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

**1985**

**DAY THREE**

Face's eyes opened slowly, and he took a moment to evaluate his surroundings. Unfamiliar room, curtains drawn, early morning light outside. There was a woman lying next to him – redhead, beautiful. Stacie. Still asleep. He closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing as he woke up. He was warm, comfortable. Kelly's house. Spare room. He breathed deep, taking in the lingering scent of Stacie's perfume, the smell of sex from the night before…

He smiled as he turned toward Stacie. Lying on his side, he stretched an arm across her, lightly stroking her soft, smooth skin. She moaned quietly, nuzzling into the pillow, and he watched her lazily as his brain processes gradually started again. She was sleeping deeply, and he didn't want to wake her. Better to let her sleep. He kissed her shoulder lightly, then slowly withdrew, slipping out from under the blankets.

The rush of cooler air made him shiver and he quickly found his clothes from the night before. He had another set in his car, but would have to go out and get them. He needed a shower, too. He'd do it a little later. With one last look – and smile – at the woman tucked comfortably under the blankets, he slipped silently out of the room.

Someone was up. He smelled coffee. Without thought, the morning routine commenced, and he stepped out onto the back porch several minutes later with his face washed, hair combed, and a cup of coffee in hand. Murdock glanced up as the door opened, and chuckled as he shook his head, looking away.

"Feel better?" he asked.

Face beamed, but didn't bother answering the rhetorical question.

The dog lying at Murdock's feet rose as Face sat down on the step beside him, and Face put up a hand to keep the German Shepherd – and his drool – at bay. It wouldn't have worked except for the tennis ball in Murdock's hand. It was an effective distraction, to be sure. Murdock heaved the ball across the back yard, and the dog took off after it.

Face took a second to study Murdock as he sipped his coffee. The smile was real, the body language was relaxed, and most importantly there was none of the bottomless emptiness in his eyes anymore. Whatever had happened between last night and this morning had done him a world of good.

The dog had returned and Face managed to not flinch as Murdock patted it, then took the slobber covered ball in his hand and threw it again.

"You seem to be feeling better yourself."

"We made it to the halfway point. That's a victory in my book."

"How's Kelly doing?" He didn't really need to ask that. Murdock wouldn't be okay if Kelly wasn't, but it was a good opening.

Murdock kept his eyes on the dog. "Still asleep. She needs it."

He didn't have to say anything more, and he didn't. She was doing as well as could be expected, consider what was going on. Face sighed to himself. Times like these made not having a family seem like a very good thing.

Homer was already back with the ball. Face waited until Murdock repeated his same germ infested routine with the dog before talking again. The silence was comfortable and there was no rush to break it.

"I didn't get much of a chance to talk to you last night."

Murdock glanced up. "About what?"

"You should know, Hannibal made peace with Joe."

"Joe?"

"Kelly's father."

Murdock nodded slowly, and looked away again.

"He promised we would be on our best behavior and not fight." Face took a sip of coffee before adding, "Of course, it didn't last very long. Randy and his buddy – Carter, I guess his name is – took a swing at me last night."

Again, Murdock nodded but said nothing.

"The old man was less than thrilled with Randy. I suspect mostly because he got his bell rung by someone fifty pounds lighter. But Randy wants to fight more than he's afraid of Daddy at the moment."

"Fear of Dad seems to run in the family." Murdock paused for a long moment, watching Homer as he bounded back, then throwing the ball once again. "But so does fear of Randy."

"Hannibal and Joe came to an understanding that _we_wouldn't be the ones starting anything. Hopefully things will be easier with more space, and a community effort at dinner."

"Today's a picnic. Local park."

"Stacie told me."

The dog seemed to be taking his time bring the ball back, sniffing at something near the tree line. Murdock whistled quickly for him, dragging his attention away from whatever it was he was engrossed in, and the dog turned and found the ball before racing back.

"I see you spent the night here."

Face smirked. "I thought you could use the backup."

Murdock laughed outright at that. "I appreciate you making that sacrifice, Face. It means a lot to me, really."

"Well, you know. There's no sacrifice too great for you." He flashed Murdock his best smile as the ball was thrown again.

"Where's Hannibal?"

"At the motel. He'll be heading here soon."

"Everyone is supposed to be bringing things to this cookout," Murdock said. His mind was clearly wandering. "So that it all doesn't rest on Kelly to be a good hostess."

"What time is everyone supposed to be there?"

"She didn't say. But I imagine it's an all day affair again. People started showing up yesterday about eleven." Murdock threw the ball again for the dog. "I imagine that's about the time they'll start showing up today."

He glanced over his shoulder, in through the screen door just to make sure that nobody inside was stirring yet. Randy was in there somewhere. Face felt a hint of tension before Murdock shook it off, stood to his feet, and bent forward to clap for Homer. The German Shepherd damn near bowled him over backwards.

Face was smiling as the back door opened and Stacie stepped out, blinking at the bright sunlight. "Good morning, beautiful," Face greeted.

She paused for a moment to watch Murdock, who was now on the ground, wrestling with the dog in the mud. "You guys are up early," she observed, glancing back to Face.

She sat down beside him. He didn't look at her, instead watching as Murdock scrambled to his feet, dodged a few steps, then hit the dirt as the barking, excited dog tackled him again. "Boy, he sure is full of energy today."

"Mmm hmm."

It was several minutes later that Murdock – dirty and panting with Homer right on his heels – ran up to the porch. "Hey, Face, you wanna go for a run?"

Face raised a brow. "Are you nuts?"

Murdock beamed, out of breath. "For another hour and forty-five minutes? You betcha!"

"You have fun with that," Face said, looking back down at the paper. The idea of a morning run did not amuse him. "Take the dog with you."

"I was planning on it." His eyes danced. "You know, I really wish Billy was here. I mean… he and Homer get along great already and he could probably use the exercise too."

Face didn't bother answering that. Murdock didn't give Stacie a chance to ask questions.

"I hope he's doing okay. Did you check on him before you came out here? Did he have fresh food and water?"

"Yes."

"Did you let the nurse know to let him out twice a day?"

"Uh huh."

"What about his treats? Did you put his treats up 'cause last time he got into them, he ate the whole box and it made him sick for a week."

"He's fine, Murdock."

Murdock seemed to accept that. He paused for a moment, then looked back at the German Shepherd sitting behind him. "Hey, you wanna go for a run, boy? Do ya?"

As Murdock bounded into the house in search of a leash, Stacie stared. "Billy is…?"

"His dog," Face answered, still not looking up.

"Oh." Stacie frowned. "Why didn't he bring him? I mean… he's going to be here a few days, right? And Kelly's normally fine with that sort of thing."

Face just smiled as he stood to his feet. "You need some coffee?"

Murdock just about ran him over on the way out. "Hey, are you sure you don't want to come? I got some sweats you can –"

"No!" Face called, not slowing.

"I'll go," Stacie offered.

Murdock turned, and raised a brow at her, curious. "Think you can keep up?"

She laughed. "Are you kidding? I ran cross country for years."

He smiled. "Alright. Cross country it is. There's paths in that woods over there, right?"

She rose to her feet, finished her coffee, and left the mug on the wooden table. "Let me go get my shoes."

**1985**

Stacie wasn't wrong. She was fit for cross country running. After the first two miles, it was actually Homer who was having some trouble keeping up. "Oh, sure!" Stacie laughed as she slowed, then stopped. "Blame it on the dog."

"Well look at 'im!" Murdock cried, his own smile firmly in place. As soon as they'd come to a rest, the dog had laid down, panting heavily. "He needs a drink." He glanced around. "Any stream or anything you know of around here?"

"We're almost to the campground. They'll have spigots there."

"Campground?"

Stacie nodded. "Kelly's property backs up against the state park. We crossed the boundary a ways back. There's a campground up ahead."

"How far?"

She shrugged. "Quarter mile, maybe."

"Alright. Come on, boy."

The dog's response to the tug on his leash was less than enthusiastic. Murdock smirked. "We'd better walk. I don't think Kelly will like it too much if we work her dog to death."

"Right. 'Cause it's all about the dog."

Murdock rolled his eyes at the taunting. He – like her – was only slightly out of breath. Although he wasn't nearly in the shape he'd like to be – living at the VA saw to that – running had never been difficult for him. He was built for it – lean and tall with long legs.

"So how did you and Kelly meet?"  
>He raised a brow, glancing at her as they started down the path. "She never told you?"<br>Stacie smiled. "I want to hear your version."  
>He was being baited. He didn't allow his awareness of that fact to show. "Homer introduced us."<br>She raised a brow, skeptically. "Homer?"

"Yeah. He an' I hit it off right away. Kelly came later. Now let me ask _you_a question." He paused only briefly. "How come when you met me you were so sure you didn't like me?"

She hesitated at that, casting him a brief glance. He could just about see the wheels in her head turning as she decided just how she wanted to answer that question. Deny? Be vague? Or maybe try to turn it back on him? From the brief time he had spent with her, Murdock was well aware of the fact that Stacie was very bright and more then capable of holding her own.

With something close to a smile Stacie eyed the trail. "Like or dislike hadn't come into play yet." She was completely casual. Hell, she could have been talking about last night's ball game. But he could feel the seriousness of her intent. "I didn't know you and had no reason to feel one way or the other. I had no reason to trust you."

He smirked slightly. "There's a big difference between trusting someone and being willing to shake their hand. Your signals were pretty clear. I just can't figure why."

"Let's just say that in the past I have been less than impressed with the men in Kelly's life."

"She's never had a real relationship, so I guess you're talking about the ones she was born with. And you can't choose those."

"No. But they tend to affect the kind of men you seek out later in life."

He was dragging the dog behind. He stopped out of sympathy for the poor thing, and watched as Homer collapsed right in the middle of the path. Looking up at Stacie again, he raised a brow. "Well, for the record, I'm nothing like those men."

Stacie stretched her arms behind her back as she laughed. "If I thought you were, I wouldn't be in the middle of the woods alone with you."

"Point taken."

Her smile fell a little and turned from practiced to something much more real. "She's my best friend and I love her, but sometimes she is far to forgiving and kind and gentle for her own good."

Murdock wasn't really surprised to hear that from her. Kelly was all those things, and it somehow seemed to feel a need to be protective of her. Stacie apparently felt the same way. "The fact that she is so forgiving, kind, and gentle is a big part of what makes her so beautiful, in my own personal opinion."

Stacie was listening intently. She was also watching him like a hawk, measuring every word, every gesture. She would only find complete sincerity. He meant every single word. There was a full moment of silent scrutiny on her part before he finally spoke again.

"It is," she agreed with a nod. "It's also what makes her need a special type of man in her life. One that can be strong enough to protect her, so she can stay that way. But won't turn that strength on her."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to her, Stacie," Murdock said firmly. "Randy's not the first insufferable bastard to cross my path and he won't be the last. But he's not going to lay a hand on her."

Her eyes were locked on him. She wasn't even bothering to hide her appraisal. Finally, she gave him a small nod. "Good."

"Does that mean I pass inspection?"

She paused again and then continued with a smile. "I'm still not sure if I like you. But if you can keep that promise, that's all that really matters. Now are you ready to keep running or are you guys too tired?"

Murdock looked back and raised a brow at Homer. "Ready, boy?"

But the dog only put his head on his paws and whimpered.


	28. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

**1968**

If Murdock had known that he was signing up for a four mile walk, he would have saved himself and Cai both the hassle and checked out a jeep from the base. Not that a four mile walk was physically strenuous, but it was 110 degrees and 99% humidity. And the dirt road that wound through the rice paddies had no shade whatsoever.

At a safe and socially acceptable distance, Cai walked beside him, her face hidden by the hat she wore to shield her face from the sun. She was quiet. Maybe too quiet. She was anxious. The looks from the workers in the rice paddies as they passed probably didn't help.

Murdock had no idea what to expect. He had never gone to meet a girl's family. Especially not under these circumstances. The prospect was daunting in even the best possible scenario. The fact that he was an outsider made things harder. When he added in the fact that he was a soldier from an occupying country's armed forces, he had a recipe he was sure would make one big ugly cake.

Glancing back at her, he smiled. The heat, the glares, the taboos; none of them meant a damn thing compared to her. He would dance naked in a mine field for her; he could handle this. He could handle anything for Cai.

Slipping his hands into his pockets he asked just loud enough for her to hear, but not the random people scattered around them. "{Are you alright Cai?}" Was she just worried about how her family would react? Or was she worried that he would make things worse for her?

She glanced back at him and forced a tight smile. "{My family knows no English. They will like that you can speak our language.}"

He smiled at her. "Well then, darlin' that's a good thing." He paused. What he wouldn't give to ease that tension out of her smile. "So how come you look like you are walking into a cage full of hungry lions?"

She frowned. "What mean cage?"

He grinned at her, smiling at the miscommunication. "{I mean I want you to smile. Do not be so worried. I promise it will be okay.}"

She ducked her head. "{I know. They will be happy to see you.}"

There was a strange sort of sadness in her voice that she was trying to hide. That was wrong; something in her quiet statement had him feeling both protective and worried. He wished like hell he could touch her - just to offer her some comfort. But that wouldn't work here.

Her smile was a bit more genuine as she looked up at him again. "{And even if they are not happy to see you, I am happy you are here.}"

"{There is no place I would rather be. Anywhere you are is perfect.}"

Why should her family be happy to see him, anyways? He was on outsider, a white barbarian. He'd been warned by the ARVN about how he would be received. But the way Cai made it sound, they would be thrilled to throw her to someone as unworthy as him.

That made no sense at all.

The village had been hastily constructed with whatever materials could be found. In a way, it was not unlike the hootches they made in the camps, though it was certainly less fortified than any camp he had been in. It occurred to him as he came upon the small little town that it might very well be a bad idea to come here without having told anyone where he was going. All eyes were on him from the moment he came into view. People left their porches to duck back into the safety of their homes. Children paused in their play to stare at him, openly gaping. A small group of teenage boys pulled in closer together, whispering amongst themselves, eyes locked on him. They were a threat; he could feel it. But a single step towards him was as far as their approach got before it was aborted at the sight of the woman walking beside him. They stayed away.

Cai spoke to no one. She looked nowhere in particular. She knew exactly where she was going, and that was where she went - to one of the houses on the main street through the town. There, she paused at the door and turned to him, placing a hand on his chest lightly to stop him. "Wait here."

Without another word, she disappeared into the house, leaving him just outside. He took a slow breath of thick, humid air as he waited, turning just enough to keep his eyes on his surroundings while he tried to remember everything he knew about her customs and rules. Murdock was smart, and the ability to think many things while doing others was the most important skill needed to fly a chopper. But even the difficulty in flying a Huey through a hailstorm of bullets seemed to pale in comparison at the moment.

He was holding five small, round boxes, wrapped with red paper. Each box contained a traditional gift that Cai had told him her family would expected from him. There was no real custom for how he shold act. Vietnamese marriages were typically arranged by parents when their children were young. He had no idea what had happened with Cai. But if he was meeting her family, they would expect him to have intentions of marrying her.

And that was exactly what he intended.

As the door opened again, he found himself staring at the unhappy face of a much older Vietnamese man. The man said nothing, just looked him up and down silently. With great care, Murdock introduced himself in Vietnamese and gave a bow to the man, making sure to keep eye contact. The man mumbled something back in unintelligible Vietnamese. Then, after a long, uncomfortable silence, he stepped aside, opening the door for Murdock to come in.

There was an audience waiting - men and women, young and old. It took him a moment to even find Cai, turned away and whispering with an older woman. She was bouncing. It was only when she turned back toward him that he realized why. In her arms was a baby, no older than six months.

Murdock stared. His field of vision narrowed down to her as her eyes caught his briefly, then looked away. All at once, it hit him, like a sledgehammer to his chest. He had to fight to stay upright and not let his shock out as the voices of the ARVN soldiers and her own voice overlapped with the things he had read and learned about Vietnamese culture. All of it converged in his mind as the reason for her fear, worry, shame and reluctance to even talk to him fell into place.

If she was holding that baby, it was hers.

He'd thought he had known what he was getting into by coming here to meet her people. It was his way of asking to marry her. Traditionally there should have been several smaller meetings with her family, where he would have offered gifts and money, to show his respect for them. Then would have been months if not years of carefully monitored "dating"; and only then would he have been allowed to ask for her hand in marriage.

Murdock had been surprised when Cai had said that would not be expected of him. She had been adamant that if he wanted to meet her family, they would expect him to be asking for marriage. He had assumed that was due to the fact he was white and American, ignorant in their traditions, and that time was a luxury that war destroyed. That was why he had brought betrothal gifts in the traditional boxes; including the equivalent of several hundred U.S. dollars. In a land where life was dirt cheap, it was enough money to keep everyone in the hut fed and clothed for at least a year. It was his way of showing he could care for her, and them. There was no separation in Vietnam; to take care of the woman was to take care of her family.

Looking at the chubby, smiling baby she was rocking on her hip, he finally understood what she had no words to tell him. Her family, her people, were glad to be marrying her off to anyone who would have her. In their eyes, she had brought shame to all of them. Marriage would not erase that shame, but having a man - even an American - was better than having a ruined daughter and her bastard American child under foot. Especially when the man asking for her hand was offering large sums of cash for them.

Very suddenly, everything made sense. There was no sound, no voices, just an odd ringing in his ears as he stared at the baby. Long buried pain was fighting for his attention. Decade old feelings were suddenly laid open. Life as the bastard child of the local nut job had been hell for him. Just like having to live with the knowledge that his own father would rather be anywhere than with him. But as bad as it was for him, that wriggling, smiling little baby on her hip was doomed to a fate many times worse then his had been.

There was no place in this country for half-breed bastard children. It said a hell of a lot about Cai and her family that the child was still with her and not in a foreign run orphanage with the rest of the children that had no value in this sometimes brutally harsh society. Emotions clashed in him, too many, too varied, too strong to try and define, all of them battling for dominance in his head. Part of his heart – a part that he kept hidden - broke for that child. Nobody deserved that, especially not someone so small and innocent.

Slowly, his eyes went from the baby and the lonely painful life in front of it to the woman holding it. Cai had pulled the baby a little tighter to her. Murdock was still standing still in stunned, confused silence as her soothing hands comforted and nurtured that tiny bundle. _Soldiers always leave…_

Whoever did this to her, whoever had taken everything she had to offer and left her to be shamed by her own people, to watch as her child suffered, deserved to be shot. If Murdock could find him, he'd kill him himself. There was a fierceness and depth to his anger that shocked him. Anger at the man who'd had no clue about who or what she was - a man she had cared enough about to give herself to, and then he had hurt her like this. Anger at a society that judged her without seeing or valuing any of the things made her so beautiful. Anger at himself for not seeing it sooner…

An evil voice in his head was taunting him. "_Maybe she was one of those whores that Alan and his buddies like so much. Spreading her legs for cash…" _

He silenced that voice with an angry growl. He didn't give a good God damn what she had been before. He had no idea what her life was like before him, and he didn't care. He knew she was fucking beautiful and right and pure and circumstances had tried to take that from her. That look she had when she watched him, the folded flower and apple she kept in her desk, the way she smiled at him when she thought he wasn't looking - that was the real Cai. She was kind, understanding, gentle, comforting and everything he had ever wanted and needed. Maybe more important than any of it, she had trusted him to meet her family and learn of her so called shame. And he would be damned to hell before he let anyone or anything take her away from him.

Fighting to keep the shock off his face, he took a deep breath and let his world and future shift around him again. Then, smiling, he straightened his back and squared his shoulders. What was needed here was clear to him. He would marry her, and he would be a father to that child. No matter what he had to do, he would give her what she needed. And he would be the father he never had.

He let himself function on autopilot as he went through the formal greeting and motions Cai had taught him. Maybe that was the reason he was here in the middle of all this senseless death and destruction. She and that baby were his future. Here or in America, it didn't matter to him. Whatever he needed to do, he would make it happen. He vowed right then and there that _nothing _would stop him.


	29. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

**1985**

Day three was underway. The picnic seemed like a relief to Murdock, but Kelly was dreading it. Inside her house, there were certain rules. Out in the picnic pavilion of the state park, no such rules could be enforced. Randy showed up with a 24 pack of Budweiser. His father showed up with a large bottle of cheap whiskey. Face showed up with a thoroughly enamored Aunt Ellen in the passenger seat of his Corvette and made everyone's head turn.

"Oh, he's such a nice boy! Randy, why can't you be more like him?"

Score another one for Face.

Face grabbed a can of Coke on his way to the table where he paused to kiss Stacie's cheek before he sat down. She laughed quietly, sensing the glare from Randy even though her back was turned to him. "Rub it in, why don't you?"

Face smiled back, slipping an arm behind her back. "Maybe later." He glanced across the table at Murdock. "Hannibal's on his way from the motel. He just woke up."

That wasn't right. Hannibal was always early to rise. But Murdock had other things on his mind. He was watching Randy out of the corner of his eye. He and his two friends were already plenty drunk at half past noon, and Randy's gaze had barely left him all morning.

"You know, he offered to bring Billy."

Murdock glanced at Face and cracked a smile. It was what Face had been looking for, he knew.

Kelly's eyes widened. "No." She looked at Murdock. "Please. Please?"

His smile remained in place as he leaned and whispered practiced lines of reassurance in her ear until she calmed. But he was still smiling as he pulled back. Face winked – a silent communication that both women saw and neither fully understood. Murdock's smile widened. He felt better again.

Stacie was looking back and forth at all three of them, feeling very out of the loop. "Okay, I don't get it," she finally said. "I thought Billy was his dog. What's wrong with bringing him?"

For that answer, she looked to Kelly, who had the look of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi. Murdock was still smiling, but his expression turned contemplative. "Go ahead, Kelly." He grinned. "Explain why you're afraid of Billy."

Stacie frowned as Kelly turned a deep crimson. Her question was ignored all the way around as Murdock chuckled and Face took a quick drink before speaking. "Lighten up, Kelly," he pleaded. "If we can handle Randy, you can handle Billy."

Kelly's eyes slid shut. "Guys, _please_ don't…"

She let her arms fall to the table. With a reassuring smile, Face closed his hands over hers. "Relax, Kelly. Everything's under control here."

Finally, Stacie leaned towards Face and asked quietly, "What's the problem with Billy? Is he vicious or something?"

"No," Face finally answered. "He's invisible."

Of all the things Stacie had expected to hear, that wasn't one of them. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she had no chance to ask questions before Randy suddenly appeared beside the table with a glare directed straight at Face. "Hey!"

Face glanced up, over his shoulder, at the intrusion.

"Don't touch my sister!"

He shoved Face so hard that he nearly fell off the bench. Stacie rose instantly to her feet. "Lay off, Randy!" she threatened. Her eyes had narrowed into slits. "Don't you have anything better to do than to come around here begging for someone to kick your ass? _Again_?"

Heads turned. Face was very much aware of them. He regained his balance and kept one eye on either party of the fight that seemed about to break out. But Randy wasn't interested in Stacie. To Face's surprise, his eyes were locked on Murdock, in spite of the fact that it was Face he'd come over to start something with.

Kelly was still, hands clenched over each other. Face didn't expect her to say anything. He was surprised when she did. "Randy, stop. Please?"

"Shut up, cunt."

Murdock was on his feet in an instant. Kelly's hand on his arm stopped him. "No. Murdock. Please."

Face could smell the alcohol on Randy as though he was an open bottle himself. The two men behind him were equally drunk. No doubt in his mind that he and Murdock could take them all down with minimal risk to anyone around. It took a moment for Face to remember that he wasn't supposed to be assessing the threat, he was supposed to be keeping the peace.

"You got somethin' to say to me?" Randy challenged, eyeing Murdock.

Murdock was still on his feet. But he didn't move away from the table. Instead, he leaned forward, eyes dead and cold and locked firmly on Randy. "You need to go sit down, Randy," he warned, low in his throat. "Before you and I end up having a not-so-friendly talk."

"Murdock, please."

Randy smiled at Kelly's protest. "Don't worry your pretty little head, sis. Chat is about all he can do." Randy leaned in closer. "And I don't give a fuck about that."

Face stood slowly and put a hand gently on Stacie's arm, carefully guided her behind him, just in case. "Go sit down, Randy," Face ordered. He smirked as he let a hint of the taunting filter into his tone. "Remember what Daddy said. He won't like you breaking the rules."

Randy slammed his fists on the table and was turned towards Face so fast that he almost lost his blance. "Keep it up. I'll kick your teeth in right along with this little faggot's."

Face's reaction was instant and instinctive. His arm was back and he would've put his fist right through the bridge of Randy's nose if Murdock hadn't interrupted his train of thought.

"No, Face."

Still ready, waiting, he listened for an explanation to follow.

"It's my fight. I can take care of it."

Randy sneered at Face, waiting to see what he'd do. With great reluctance, Face lowered his arm slowly, but didn't take his eyes off of Randy.

"Go sit down, Randy," Murdock ordered again, his voice cold.

"You sit down," Randy shot back at him. "And shut up. You wanna play house where you're not allowed to even pitch a tent."

"I'm afraid that's not your call."

"What's not my call?" Randy was a little too drunk to engage in witty banter.

Murdock's voice lowered as he leaned over the table. "Let me put this in a language you'll understand. This is my territory now. So back the fuck off."

That dead cold in Murdock's voice made the hairs on the back of Face's neck stand up. Murdock never used that tone. Face was _glad_Murdock never used that tone.

"Make me," Randy sneered back.

Murdock was up and over the table with a fistful of Randy's shirt and his other arm pulled back before Face saw him move. He never had a chance to swing. Suddenly, Hannibal was there, in between the two men, eyes cold and serious. "Stand down!"

Hannibal's full command voice carried across the pavilion, and just like every other time Hannibal used that voice, Face and Murdock both responded without thinking. Hannibal's attention was on Randy, who had no such reaction. Delayed by the alcohol, it was hard to tell if he even realized who he was swinging at. As it happened, his fist caught Hannibal's jaw.

Face didn't need to _see_Hannibal respond to know that he would. The two friends behind Randy became his and Murdock's concern. As they took a single step forward, Face and Murdock moved – fluidly and without thought – to block their path. Face could feel the adrenaline, the anger, the tension that just kept building and building. If either one of them were stupid enough to step up, they would get to experience the letting off of that pressure firsthand.

Out of the corner of his eye, Face saw Hannibal block the next drunken wild punch with his forearm. Randy's balance and inebriation made it all too easy. With one fluid and well practiced motion Hannibal grabbed Randy's arm and pulled him further off balance, while twisting and turning them. In a blur of motion that happened so fast, even Face had trouble following it, Hannibal had Randy restrained tight in a full Nelson.

"I promised your father that there would be no more incidents during this gathering," Hannibal growled. "So you're going to have to calm down, son."

If there was any sarcasm in that statement, Hannibal kept it well hidden under his calm and reasonable tone. Randy was struggling in vain to break the hold when Hannibal turned to address the other two. "Now, as much as I would love to have a nice, refreshing brawl and settle the score once and for all, this isn't the time or the place. But keep pushing, and I guarantee there _will_be repercussions."

Randy was using all of his strength to struggle against Hannibal - twisting, shoving, pushing whatever way he could to get some leeway. He wasn't going anywhere. "Mother fuckin' babykillin' scum! I'm gonna kill you. Every last one of you. Slow and painful. Watch the life drain out of you!"

They had already managed to attract the attention of just about everyone gathered anywhere near the pavilion. It was a few seconds more before Randy's father was drawn over to them. "What the _hell_is goin' on here?"

"I'll fucking kill you!"

"Killing us will have to wait," Hannibal said flatly. His eyes were hard, his voice ice cold. "Your father asked for no fighting and I will respect that."

Hannibal was furious. Face knew that. But he hid it so well, it was impossible to tell. Face could simply feel it. But at the same time, Face knew that Hannibal wasn't about to hand over control of the situation because of a drunken idiots rambling. He would do and say whatever was necessary to remain the one who was keeping his end of the bargain that Randy was violating.

"Let him go!" Joe yelled.

The moment Hannibal's grip released on Randy, his father was in his face.

"What in the _hell_is wrong with you, boy? Did I not make myself clear? _Get_ your ass over away from your sister and her friends before I beat the ever loving shit outta you!" He cast a glare at the two friends, making it perfectly clear that the threat applied to them as well. "Now!"

Randy glared daggers from Hannibal to his father to Face and Murdock. But for once, he had the sense to keep his mouth shut. His jaw was clamped tight enough to break teeth, but in the end, Daddy ruled no matter what Randy liked to think. Finally, the drunk bastard took a step back turned away.

Hannibal watched him go, then glanced at Murdock. "You alright?" It sounded so casual, but Face could hear the anger. He could see it. Hannibal was seething.

"I'm fine," Murdock answered, keeping his eyes away as he turned and headed away from the table. He needed a few minutes alone.

It wasn't over. Face knew it just as well as Murdock and Hannibal did. Randy was getting wound tighter every time he got put down. And he would keep coming back for more until he ran out of strength to get back up. As Hannibal greeted Kelly and Stacie, Face watched Murdock's retreating form silently. It was only a matter of time. Face didn't want to think about what would finally put Murdock over the edge.

**1968**

"{You did not tell me.}"

Cai sat down carefully beside him, on the small, low bench just outside the door of the little hut, but didn't answer.

"{You could have. It would not have changed anything.}"

She didn't answer him, just kept her head lowered to the baby she laid on her lap with its head at her knees, bouncing it slightly. She stopped suddenly as he reached out and set a hand on her forearm lightly.

"{It _does_not change anything.}"

Finally, she looked up at him. But she couldn't hold his gaze for long before she looked away again, back down at the baby in her lap. His eyes followed hers to the sleeping child. How in the hell could anything look so peaceful in the middle of this place? Would he scare it by talking to loud? How well did they even hear at this age? He had no clue. Murdock had never even been this close to any human so small and tiny before.

He spoke softly, haltingly to the woman next to him. _His_woman. "{You do not have to tell me anything, Cai. I am still not leaving.}"

Very slowly, she raised her eyes again to his. She remained quiet for a long moment more, then finally gave a slight, barely-there smile. "Thank you."

That hint of a smile had his heart feeling lighter. He had no idea how this was going to work or where they would be in a month or even a week. But he would give everything to make it work. And that meant it would, somehow. It was a strange feeling to know that he had something, someone like her, and now her child. Was it a boy or a girl? At this point, he had no way of telling.

His eyes flicked to sky and then to his watch. There was too little time and too many things to learn. He stuck to the big questions for now. "{Boy or girl?}" Was it wrong that he couldn't tell? Would Cai be offended that he had no idea what the answer was to that?

"Is boy." She gathered the baby into her arms again and turned slightly toward him. "You want? Here."

Before he could even manage a protest, he was holding the infant in his arms. His eyes widened to the size of saucers as he felt a strange and overwhelming terror and awe settle on him. An entire, very tiny, very fragile human being was laying right in his arms, and she was tucking the blanket around him so Murdock could see his face.

"His name Phuoc Huu. Mean..." She hesitated for a long moment, searching for words, but couldn't find them.

"Phuoc Huu," he repeated stupidly, unable to think past the warm and _little_life in his arms. He could feel how wide his eyes where when he looked at her. "I… I don't…"

For once in his life, words completely failed him. There was nothing in his head. The slight movement in his arms had him looking down again, just as small and delicate eyelids fluttered open and deep black eyes stared up at him with open and straightforward interest. Nothing, no one had ever looked at him like that. No guile, no barriers, nothing but innocent curiosity. Mouth still open he stopped trying to speak.

Cai was smiling - at the baby, at him, it was hard to tell. She left her hand on his arm for a long moment, then withdrew it slowly. "{He is a very quiet baby. He hardly ever cries. I do not get to see him often, because there is no job for me here, and no one to care for him if I keep him with me.}" Her smile fell as she lowered her eyes again. "{I teach, and there is good money for teachers. I send money for family, so they care for Phuoc Huu.}"

A teeny little hand escaped the blanket while she was speaking, and much to his wonder, five perfect and surprisingly strong fingers wrapped around his one. Phuoc. Something in his mind clicked. Lucky. Her son's name meant Lucky.

The kid was hanging on to him so tightly he found himself smiling like a fool. His life hadn't been too lucky so far. But he did have one hell of a mother, and that would make a world of difference. The infant was still staring him with a look of wonder as he explored Murdock's knuckle.

"Stay with him," he said softly. "I'll give you the money."

Cai smiled softly as she reached out and touched the baby's head. Lucky broke into a one-toothed, drooling smile.

"You teach him and I'll take care of you," Murdock said quietly. He said it without thought, but he meant every word.

His life, his reason for everything, was about to change.


	30. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

**1985**

Randy and company had left about twenty minutes ago, music blaring so loud in the beat up cutlass that the whole thing shook. It was amazing that the car didn't simply disintegrate into a pile of rust when it vibrated like that. The moment he was out of sight, Kelly had relaxed noticeably. The whole gathering had relaxed, actually. It had taken a little while for Murdock to catch up, tension gradually releasing in his shoulders as he listened quietly to the chatter around him. He was quiet when he was tense. It was one of the few times he'd ever choose to be silent when given the option.

One of the biggest changes – and the most surprising – was Andrew. Suddenly, he was associating with them freely and comfortably. Murdock was surprised when he had suggested a break – over to the local bar to relax for a while. Maybe it was paranoia – Murdock was certainly known for that, on occasion – but he didn't trust it. He would've declined if not for Hannibal's agreement. None of them had any interest in drinking themselves stupid, Hannibal had pointed out, but all of them had a vested interest in taking a break from the family stress.

Kelly was sitting as much apart from the cliquish groups as she could, with Stacie on one side and her mother and sister on the other. The three of them were talking, but she was quiet – head down on the table. She jumped as he touched her back lightly to get her attention and looked up at him.

"Hey, sweetheart. You okay?"

She was fine. He knew that. Just tired. Had it been otherwise, the other women at the table – or at least Stacie - would've been more concerned. As it was, their conversation didn't even pause. She looked up at him for a long moment, studying him as if she was looking for something in particular. Whatever it was, she must have been reassured by what she saw because she was offering him a weak smile and a nod. "I'm fine."

It wasn't so much of a lie as it was a half-truth. The full truth would have been, "I'm fine considering my abusive alcoholic brother and father are making things miserable at the moment. But that's what I expect from them."

He gave her an answering smile - not quite genuine but not quite a lie either. Two could play at this game. Rubbing one hand on her back, he offered his other hand down to her. "Can I steal you away for a minute? I gotta talk to you."

The thought of escaping - even for just a minute - had a tiny, real smile sneaking across her face. It faded for a second as she looked away from him, just long enough to scan the crowd. Her eyes stopped on her father, sitting in the center of a group of male relatives, looking like he was holding court.

Murdock followed her gaze. As he understood it, her father had been less than thrilled by their disappearing act the day before. But he hadn't actually said anything to Murdock about it. In any case, "It's just for a minute."

They weren't going far – just far enough to put a safe distance between them and anyone who may be listening in. Finally, she nodded. "Sure."

He could tell by her voice she wasn't sure. But going with him held too much appeal to say no. That much, he understood. He helped her to her feet gently and slid an arm behind her back, leading her safe distance away from the crowd. Twenty yards or so away, he stopped at a large tree just outside the picnic area and ducked behind it, pushing her gently back against it. He could watch the crowd, but she was pointed the other way. As far as she was concerned, they were the only two people around.

"You _really_okay?"

He grinned slightly - genuinely this time - leaning on the tree with one arm as his other hand stroked her cheek lightly. There was a soft sigh from Kelly as her eyes slid closed and she leaned onto the tree, tension slipping away at his touch. Her hand was on his when she opened her eyes and smiled.

"I will be," she whispered. "We're almost done."

He smiled, and leaned in to kiss her forehead gently. "Yes, we are." He left his lips against her warm skin as he breathed in the scent of her shampoo. "You gonna be okay if I take off for a little while with the guys?"

Her eyes were searching him again. She was trying to hide her worry. But he could see it in her eyes and hear it in her tone. "I think... I should be fine."

"You sure?"

She nodded and her eyes dropped to the ground. "Where are you guys going?"

He traced his fingers lightly down her jaw, all the way to her chin - a soft and comforting touch. "We're just going to go have a few drinks. We won't be all that long."

She winced slightly. "Drinks?"

He tipped her chin up so that their gazes were locked. "I'll stay behind if you want me to."

All she had to do was say the word. And she knew that. But instead of a veto, she forced a smiled. "No, it's okay. You've earned a break."

"You sure?"

She tried to glance over her shoulder but all she could see was the tree. "Randy's gone. I'll be fine."

"You need anything before I go? Need me to bring anything back?"

She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest and drawing strength from his presence. "With Stacie and my mom and my sister I'll be fine. You go be with your friends."

"Okay."

She pulled back just long enough to look up at him. "But please don't overdo it?"

Her eyes dropped as her request turned to a question. One that not only did she seem afraid to ask, she acted like she thought she wasn't allowed to ask. Murdock laughed quietly, reassuringly, and pushed a hand back through her hair. "I have no interest in overdoing it."

He tightened his fingers in her hair just enough to tip her head back. "Besides. When I come back I want to be perfectly sober. So I can make love to you."

She smiled at that, genuinely. "I love you, Murdock."

He leaned down to kiss her slowly, deeply. He could feel her melt into that kiss, relaxing as she released the tension and worry. When she finally pulled away, she smiled softly up at him. "Just be careful, okay?" she pleaded. "Randy is on a tear and this town just isn't that big."

He smiled as he pulled away slowly. "I won't be gone long. I promise."

**1985**

Face took two steps into the bar, did a quick sweep, and stopped. "Uh oh."

Andrew, in the lead by a few paces, paused and looked back. "What's wrong?"

Murdock glanced at Hannibal, knowing he would've seen it too. Back in the corner booth were Randy, his two friends, a couple of male cousins, and Uncle Martin , talking and laughing over a tableful of empty glasses.

Drew rolled his eyes. "Aw, hell."

"We should go," Murdock said quietly.

"There's not another bar anywhere around here, if I remember right," Drew said.

"Probably why they came here," Hannibal pointed out.

Murdock was tense. "Really, we should go."

But this time, based on the look in his eyes, Hannibal wasn't half as anxious to swallow his pride and keep the peace. Neither was Face. Murdock could feel it radiating from both of them. Anger and indignation. They were ready for Randy.

"Oh, I don't think Randy will give us too much of a problem," Hannibal said casually, amused. "Right guys?"

Murdock looked away, glancing first at Face – who was smiling - and then at the rest of the bar. "You _do _realize that's a hell of a lot of liquid courage on his table," he said. "And he's already wound up."

"And that we're not in Kelly's house anymore," Hannibal pointed out. "Or anywhere remotely near her father's territory."

That settled that.

Murdock followed reluctantly as they walked to the opposite end of the bar and stopped at a table in the back corner.

"Relax, Captain," Hannibal said as he turned his chair so he could see the door. "If he starts anything, this one's on me."

"It doesn't work that way, Hannibal," Murdock said, still watching Randy warily, out of the corner of his eye.

"What's the complication?"

Murdock shot a pointed look at Hannibal. "The fact that it's Kelly."

There was no argument from Hannibal. He let it go as the waitress stepped up to the table with a smile. "What can I get you boys to drink?"

She took orders, disappeared, and left them with a lingering silence. Andrew lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. Now they waited. The bomb was ticking.

Murdock listened to the conversation with mild interest, nursing his drink, his mind wandering. He was slowly beginning to realize that he really didn't want to be here. He was preoccupied. Worried, even. He wanted to call Kelly. Of course, she probably couldn't be safer with Randy right here with them. As he scanned for a pay phone, his gaze locked on Randy's advancing figure. Beer bottle in hand, murderous glare in his eyes, he was heading right towards them. That bomb was about to blow.

Murdock didn't react, just watched him quietly, his face expressionless. Their eyes were deadlocked when he was still a good twenty yards away. He was Randy's target. There was no doubt whatsoever about that.

Face was talking. He didn't see the approach from behind him. Hannibal did. Before Randy was within range, Hannibal interrupted the conversation with a warning. "Heads up, guys."

Face paused, took one look at Hannibal's expression, and turned to meet the threat with a smile. Murdock sipped his drink slowly, never lowering his eyes.

"Randy," Face greeted brightly. "What a nice surprise."

"Like hell it is," Randy shot back. The slur in his voice made it clear just how much he'd had to drink. "You fucking pussies following me?"

The question was aimed at Murdock. Face answered, calmly and pleasantly. "Not at all."

"You're welcome to join us if you'd like," Hannibal offered with a smile

Randy straightened and put his shoulders back as he turned his glare to Hannibal. Without another word, he took a step forward and spat at him, eyes blazing in challenge. Hannibal blinked in genuine surprise. Murdock straightened as he saw Face's eyes light up like fire. In a flash, Face was on his feet, one hand gripping Randy's shirt and the other pulled back, ready to lay him out.

He didn't strike, though he clearly had the opportunity. He was waiting for a cue from Randy – anything that could be construed as a first move. "Go ahead, you son of a bitch," Face growled in uncharacteristic fury. "I kicked your ass once and I'll do it again."

Murdock took a drink.

Randy didn't have a chance to answer the challenge. Before he could get a fist up, there was a man on either side of him - the cousins they had all seen but not talked to - pulling him back. Face's grip loosened on the man's shirt, and he stepped back.

Murmured voices, "Come on, he ain't worth it, Randy," and Randy's eyes locked on Murdock again. "Fuckin' baby-killers. They ain't worth it, man."

Murdock's jaw ticked. One more insult on top of all the others shouldn't have even fazed him. But it did. "I'd be careful if I were you," Murdock said darkly. "Babies aren't the only thing we've killed."

His tone was decidedly calm, but layers of anger were buried underneath. Randy stopped, jerked away from the hands guiding him away, and turned back. "You ain't got the balls to do it," he challenged.

Murdock didn't rise to the bait. He'd promised to keep his cool and he was still respecting that. But his eyes were fixed on Randy, dead and cold.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Randy taunted when Murdock didn't stand up. "You know, I shoulda figured that slut would go for a pansy assed whack job."

Murdock stood, but not to fight. "I'm leaving," he announced, tossing a few bills on the table. If Hannibal and Face wanted to stay and fight, more power too them. But this level of anger was something Murdock didn't want to feel.

Randy's progress backwards came to a stop as he planted his feet. His voice dropped a notch, saturated with aggression. "You're temporary, freak," Randy taunted. "Kelly likes a cock that _works_."

Murdock stopped mid-step into his retreat, and turned slowly to face Randy. For a moment, he said nothing, not completely sure of what he'd just heard. "_Excuse_me?" Why the hell would he say something like that?

"You heard me."

"No, I don't think I did."

"What're you gonna do?" Randy challenged. "Put the bitch on her knees and take her picture?"

The shock was wearing off, and Murdock's jaw was tightening as he glared at Randy. "How the hell do you talk like that about your sister?"

Randy pulled out of the grip on his arms and took slow, deliberate, stalking steps forward. "I back it up, too."

It suddenly occurred to Murdock that the man standing in front of him may just be more mentally unstable than he was. "You need help."

"Me? I'm not the one who lives in a fuckin' psych ward."

Murdock tensed. How the hell did he know that? There was no way he should know that. Kelly would've protected that secret with her life.

"Oh, does that make you angry?" Randy taunted.

Face moved forward to intervene. Murdock held up a hand to stop him. He'd take care of this. "I don't know where you got your information from, but I would advise you to be careful about saying things that are likely to get your ass kicked."

"By who?" Randy challenged. "You?"

Murdock didn't answer. He just waited as Randy laughed, stalking closer

"You suddenly turn into a man? Last I heard, you was just a crazy bastard what couldn't even get it up for his girl."

How? How did he know to say that?

"You gonna finger fuck her all day?"

The rooms were exactly the same as they had been when Kelly was a kid.

"Or are you happy being the bitch on his knees?"

Randy's bedroom was right next to Kelly's.

"No matter what that whore says, she wasn't a fuckin' virgin."

He'd been listening through the wall.

"Bitch likes a hard cock. More than one, all at once."

Maybe even watching, somehow.

"Pass her around like a cheap party trick. Bitch will swallow anything."

Murdock snapped. It happened so fast, there was no way anyone could've stopped him. He'd been expecting a fight, but he hadn't been expecting to be the one who struck first. No one had. In three strides, he was on top of Randy, grabbing a beer bottle off the table along the way. He took the punch Randy threw as he broke the bottle on the side of Randy's head, and went straight for his throat with the broken edge. Just a fraction to the left, another fraction of a second to aim, and he would've opened the man's artery right there.

Hands were on him. But they couldn't hold him. Randy had just crossed that line, and there was no coming back. It had been a lethal mistake. With no sense of reality, no sense of anything but a need to eliminate the threat in front of him, Murdock did what he had to in order to get out of that grip. He didn't know or care who was holding him. He didn't know or care if that broken bottle cut friend or foe as long as it was buried in Randy's throat in the end.

"Face!"

Hannibal's voice barely registered. Another set of hands on him. Fingers pressing to a pressure point on Murdock's wrist, not letting go until the pain forced him to release the bottle. It shattered on the ground at his feet. Murdock didn't stop. There was no power on earth that could've held him back. Blind with rage and certifiably out of his mind, he felt no pain, saw no danger. He broke the grip of all the hands on him and went through the two cousins like paper to get back to Randy, ignoring the fact that Randy was already bleeding.

Their grips locked on each other, grappling and throwing punches in blind fury. Randy's blood was soaking his shirt, making Murdock's fingers slick and sticky as he held on and struck, over and over again. Murdock staggered as he was jerked back, off balance. Face shoved him back and stepped in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

"Stop!" Face was yelling at him.

Murdock looked past Face at Randy. He was unconscious. When had that happened? Bleeding from his nose and the side of his neck where the bottle pierced him, he was surrounded by his friends and cousins.

"You're fuckin' crazy, man!"

"You're gonna go to jail for this!"

Murdock's eyes were still on Randy. But he didn't go through Face this time. Over the confusion in the bar, the loud music and the echoing insults, the sound of sirens outside barely registered.

"Out!"

Face shoved him back, so hard he almost fell. Hannibal grabbed his other arm and shoved him towards the bar, away from Randy. "Out the back. Let's go."

Murdock didn't resist, but didn't particularly cooperate either as Hannibal and Face shoved him through the swinging "Employees only" doors and through the small kitchen. They were out the back door just in time to hear the sirens stop and the doors of the cop cars slam. Moving quick and nearly blind in the darkness, they stumbled toward Hannibal's car and shoved Murdock in the back seat before jumping inside. No one followed them as they sped away.


	31. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER THIRTY**

**1985**

Murdock hadn't said a word since they'd shoved him into the car. He was huddled against the car door, staring outside as they headed down the street. They stopped in a park. It was a safe, public area that gave them just enough privacy to figure out what they were going to do now.

"What do you think the chances are he files charges?" Face was the one to finally break the silence.

Hannibal glanced briefly back at Murdock, then sighed as he turned forward again, putting the car into park. "Given that the police were there before we even pulled away, I'd say the chances are pretty good."

He turned the car off and leaned back, eyes closed for a moment. He could feel the blood running down his arm – the price of getting the broken bottle away from Murdock – and it hurt. But it wasn't enough blood to really be concerned about. The cut was long, but it wasn't deep. He took a minute to look at it, nonetheless, carefully shrugging out of his jacket.

Face was already reaching under the seat, pulling out the small first aid kit. He didn't have to ask where it was. They all had one in the same place in every car they used. Hannibal looked at Face as he opened the kit and pulled supplies with an efficiency borne of practice.

Face wasn't focused on the task. He, like Hannibal, was on autopilot, still dealing with the adrenaline and trying to focus on what to do next with the too-silent man in the backseat.

"We need to get him out of here," Face said. The calm tone and smooth movements in his hands didn't fool Hannibal for a second. "I can get us someplace remote. Let BA know where we're at."

Face was speaking his thoughts out loud. It was the closest to rambling Hannibal had heard from him in a long damn time. Normally, Face thought before he spoke.

"Remote?" Hannibal raised a brow. "What are you suggesting, Face? When would we be planning on coming back?"

Face's rambling needed a reality check. They were all wanted on any number of criminal counts, not least among them robbery and treason. All except Murdock. His "insanity" status would protect him, even in this instance. It wouldn't be pretty, but fleeing the country for an indeterminate length of time simply didn't seem like the best option. In essence, nothing had changed. A well-documented, mentally ill patient had escaped the VA where he was already on lockdown and committed a crime. If that made him "criminally insane," what difference did that actually make? His door already locked from the outside.

Face had rolled up his sleeves. He was opening the rubbing alcohol, focused on the gash on Hannibal's forearm. "Whenever he's ready, we could see about getting Richter out there. I know Murdock trusts him."

It was clear that Face wasn't even thinking of the VA as an option. But prolonging the inevitable didn't make it any less inevitable. Hannibal held the jacket under his arm as he set it down on the armrest to keep the blood off of the upholstery. The jacket was already ruined.

"Richter can see him at the VA. Which is where he needs to go unless he's planning on joining us for a life on the run."

Hannibal glanced into the rearview mirror at Murdock to see how he responded to that. But he didn't respond it at all. He was listening; Hannibal was sure of that. But he wasn't speaking. He wasn't looking away from whatever point he was staring at outside.

Face froze as he suddenly realized what Hannibal had just said. "You can't be serious." His voice wasn't loud, but still he lowered it before speaking again. "We can't take him back to the VA. Do you have any idea what they'll do to him?"

Hannibal was studying the gash on his arm, pinching it closed with his free hand to stop the bleeding. He knew exactly what they would do to him, and it wouldn't be pretty. But Murdock had made his decision long ago on where he would choose to be. He hadn't _needed_ to be in the VA for quite some time now. At least not as far as Hannibal was concerned.

"Electroshock therapy? Restraints? Thorazine? You know how bad he can get when they change his meds." Face's voice was low and harsh as he cleaned Hannibal's arm. "They'll have him in a straight jacket and drooling. It could set him back years!"

Face was right. Hannibal knew that. He also knew that this wouldn't be the first time. And every time before, Murdock's decision had been the same.

In a way, Hannibal realized, he felt responsible. Murdock had wanted to leave that bar. He and Face had been the reason they'd stayed. Hannibal could deal with the guilt for that later. Bad call or not, it was over and done with. They had no choice but to deal with the step that was in front of them now.

He glanced again in the rearview mirror, studying Murdock for a moment. "Captain? You got anything to add to this?"

Murdock didn't look away from the window. His eyes probably never even came into focus. He was quiet for a long moment. When he finally answered, he still didn't turn toward either of them. He didn't move any more than strictly necessary to speak. "Take me back to the VA."

"What! No!" Face's eyes went wide as emotions Hannibal hadn't seen for years crossed them. But then, just as quickly, those emotions disappeared again, hidden behind his mask of control. He didn't speak again. It was hard to say if that was out of respect for Murdock's decision or because he just didn't trust himself to speak right now.

Hannibal paused for a long moment, letting the words and the reactions all settle. "Face is right, you know," he said. "It won't be a happy homecoming. And you don't have to. There are other options."

Murdock blinked slowly. Otherwise, he didn't react, didn't move. He didn't say a word for several long moments. Then, once again, he answered without any hint of emotion. "Take me back to the VA. Now."

Face's eyes dropped. Suddenly, Hannibal's arm was the most interesting thing in the world. He didn't say a word as he bandaged the wound and taped it off. Then he slid the first aid kit back and turned to stare out the windshield as Hannibal started the car and started the drive back to LA.

**1968**

The air was still sticky and hot, but the sun was beginning to sink lower. Murdock needed to head back to the base in order to get there before dark. It wasn't safe to make that four mile trek once the sun went down. Not for a lone American soldier. It was questionably safe as it was. Cai would be staying with her family tonight, and he would be making that trip alone.

"{When will I see you?}" Cai asked softly, head lowered as she shifted Phuoc Huu onto her hip. She glanced back up at Murdock only briefly before dropping her eyes again.

"{As soon as I can.}"

As much as Murdock wanted to kiss her - wanted to let her know without words what he was feeling - he didn't. It wasn't safe and it would bring her shame to do that so publicly, with her family so close.

"{I am going to marry you when I get back,}" he promised. He gave her a crooked smile. "{If you and Phuoc Huu will have me.}"

This time as she looked up, she held his gaze. The smile that crossed her lips was genuine. Very slowly, she reached up with one hand to touch the side of his face, brushing her fingers along his jaw feather-lightly. "{You are a good man, HM.}"

He hand held hers. "No, but I am a lucky man."

He took a quick look around. There were wary gazes coming from all directions. No privacy here, in any sense of the word. Damn, he wanted to kiss her.

"I got to go, darling," he said softly, in English. "But I'll see you and Phouc here," he ran his free hand over the silky soft hair on the boy's head, "real soon."

"{Be careful,}" she pleaded.

He pulled away reluctantly, not wanting to leave her and all she was offering him. But he really did have to go. He waved before turning and taking the first few steps. Then, jamming his hands into his pockets, he twisted back around and called to Cai as he trotted backwards. "{This soldier does not leave, Cai!}"

She giggled, and lifted the baby's hand to wave at him. Feeling confident and alive, he winked at her and then set off at a jog down the dangerous path to the base.

He saw the jeeps up ahead when he was only a short distance from the village. There wasn't anything between the village and Nha Trang except rice paddies, and a few pedestrians. That made the vehicles kind of stand out. He wasn't complaining. Maybe he could catch a ride the rest of the way back.

It didn't occur to him that something was wrong until he was within shouting distance and suddenly realized there were assault rifles pointed at him. His hands went up immediately. "Woah! What's up, guys?"

A few seconds of confusion, the rifles were lowered, and a man stepped out to greet him with a formal salute. "Captain Lance Cavierot." He barely paused – certainly not long enough to give Murdock a chance to reply. "Are there any other Americans in that village?"

"I don't think so." He had answered out of habit, it took a second for him to realize what the question was. The hair on the back of his neck was suddenly standing straight up. His light heart sank to his knees. "Why? What's going on?"

Why where they here and what did they want to know about Cai's village for?

The Captain didn't reply, just turned and reached for his radio. Murdock didn't need an answer from him. Not really. He knew the sound the instant he heard it. He could tell the hum of a plane's engine from any other sound. He'd made a game of it in the Academy – and he'd always won. Which sound belonged to which plane? The sound he heard now belonged to a Sandy. No, not one. Several. Many. Within seconds, the roar overhead was deafening as several sorties swooped in, past the jeeps, and over the village.

He couldn't breathe. And somehow, still, he managed a scream. "No!"

They didn't hear. They didn't stop. The hatches opened and as the first few loads of napalm rained down on the village below, Murdock was running at a full sprint towards the flames.

"No! God damn it! Stop! Cai!"

He had to get to her. He had to get her _out _of there.

"Cai!"

His feet were moving but he wasn't going anywhere. Through the shock and panic, it took him a moment to realize why. Arms were holding him back.

"Man, are you fucking kidding?"

"You ain't goin' back in there."

He struggled wildly. There was no thought - only instinct, desperate _need _to get to her. "Stop!" he screamed at the planes, although he knew they couldn't hear. "Stop it, god damn it! There's children in there!"

Not just children. _Her_ child. The child that would be his, once the process was finalized. Her face flashed in his mind – her shy smile and trusting eyes. He remembered everything at once. The way she had looked and felt, lying beneath him in the darkness. The soft, innocent touch of her fingers on his skin. Immediately, the thoughts were in his mind. He should've taken her with him, out of there. He should've married her right on the spot. He never should've walked away. Where was the rewind button? Where was the eraser? Maybe if he tried hard enough, fast enough – before the reality set in – he could somehow _change _it. He could go back to just a few minutes ago, standing in front of her house…

"{When will I see you?}" she asked, moving Lucky to her hip. That shy look, insecure and vulnerable, and his to protect.

"Come with me, Cai. Come with me right now. I'll marry you today. We'll have a family. We'll make it work. Just come with me right now."

The only response was the ringing in his ears and the shouts of the men trying to hold him back. It took four of them, and they finally let him go. The planes roared overhead as he ran as hard and fast as he could after them. His own screams of protest and anger stopped; he needed his breath. He needed to save her. And Phuoc Huu. They were back there, expecting him to protect them, to take care of them, like he had promised. Everything that was sure and hopeful and good about his future was back there, depending on him.

The village was in flames, and more planes were dropping more jellied gasoline from the sky. The first few people - children who'd been in the streets, women who were screaming in fear and pain - ran to and then past him, trying to get to safety. He was far from the village, and he could feel the heat. The villagers passing him were burned, some of them screaming, all of them running away from the horror he was running towards.

He could only get so close before the flames were simply too hot. There was no one coming past him anymore. No survivors left. And still the napalm fell. The bottom fell out as he sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Why would the universe give him a wife and son, just to take it away again, hours later? Life, the world, was unfair and filled with pain. But it couldn't be that cruel!

He knew even as the thoughts formed, the world was just that cruel. Innocent babies and children and people died, every second, everywhere. And this time, the world had taken his. Sobbing, he felt the tears rolling down his cheeks and off the tip of his nose. He bent over double, forehead in the warm mud. Pain and smoke and heat burned his lungs with each harsh, gasping breath. But he could do nothing but sob.

Wrapping his hands around his chest he tried to hold himself together as everything he cared about – everything left in this world that cared about him – was incinerated before his very eyes.

"Cai…"

Why take her? Why take Lucky? Why were they gone and he was still here? He didn't deserve to be alive, and he didn't want to be.

Suddenly, the pain was too much. He couldn't take it. Still on his knees, he sat up and threw his head back, screaming to the sky, to God and the heavens themselves. "Cai! I won't leave you! I _didn't _leave!" His chin dropped to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut as he wept, fighting just to breathe. Everything inside of him was breaking as he shook with pain and grief. "Why did _you_ leave _me_?"

There was no answer, only the loud sizzling of the flames. They drowned out the sound of his own tears as he lay face down on the ground and wept bitterly.


	32. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE**

**We are getting close to the end, hope you have enjoyed it. Just to let you know the next book will post a couple days after the Epilog in this one, and it will be under sss979 name.  
><strong>

**1985**

Kelly had no warning. One moment, everything was fine. The next, Randy's car was pulling up without him in it. And then, within seconds, all hell was breaking loose. It took her a few minutes to even figure out what the yelling was actually about. Randy was not with his friends; that much was obvious. But where he was and why remained a mystery until her father's fiery eyes turned to her.

"Where did you find that goddamn mother fucking crazy ass boyfriend of yours! The mother fucking nuthouse?"

For a moment, she was so startled, she had no response. As she stood gaping, stammering, Stacie rose to her feet and stepped away from the picnic table, a half-step in front of Kelly. God bless Stacie. One would think she didn't have a clue just how violent – how dangerous – the man in front of her could get. Especially given the fact that he was already drunk.

"Is there a _problem_, Mr. Stevens?" Stacie demanded.

Kelly just took a small step back, there was no talking to Daddy when he was like this; she knew that from experience. Being confrontational and making him angrier was a mistake. As soon as she knew what had happened, she could apologize and get away from him. 'Til then it was best to just say nothing, not look at him, and not offer any sort of challenge that would make him even angrier.

Lucky for Stacie, Daddy entirely ignored her. His eyes were locked on Kelly. "Answer me!"

Several gasps of shock were a reminder that everyone in the pavilion was suddenly silent and watching the scene unfold. It didn't matter. It wouldn't stop him. She knew that look and what he was capable of. Well practiced words of survival and appeasement were out of her mouth without a thought, even though she knew it wouldn't do any good.

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

She had no idea what she was sorry for and it didn't matter. Even all these years later, the response was ingrained. She would say just about anything to make him stop, to not have to smell his whiskey sour breath or hear him stomping towards her.

She gasped as he grabbed her by the hair. She didn't know where he was dragging her, only that she was suddenly off balance. He made it one step. The next step was stopped by a hand on his shoulder, almost simultaneous with a fist in his jaw - hard enough to topple him over backwards into the picnic table. He almost pulled her down with him, but she managed to break away.

The shock and gasps of horror went all the way around the pavilion. Kelly's was included. How had he ended up there? What was he going to do when he got back up? Before she could even think about running away, her eyes went to Hannibal. Panic threatened to take over as she watched Hannibal standing there, waiting for Daddy to get back up. Where was Murdock? The thought was there, tangled with the others in her head. But there was no answer.

"Oh, please! Stop!" Mother was facing Hannibal - clearly placing the blame for this outburst entirely on him. She knew better than to step _between _two riled up males, but it was clear on whose side she stood.

Hannibal's gaze shifted to her only briefly, then back to Daddy, waiting. It took Daddy a couple of drunken, uncoordinated attempts to get his feet under him again. The moment he did, he pointed an angry finger in Hannibal's direction.

"You! Come into _my _house and allow this bullshit to happen!"

"No." Hannibal's voice was dead cold. "We came into your daughter's house. And for your information, it was your son who stepped out of line. If Murdock hadn't put him in his place, I sure as hell would've."

Kelly's eyes went wide. Put him in his place? Murdock? That was Face who'd done that, in the kitchen. Unless that wasn't what Hannibal was talking about at all. A fearful dread was beginning to coil in her stomach. What on earth had happened?

"Where the fuck is he?" Daddy demanded.

"Who?" Hannibal answered back, perfectly calm. "Mine or yours?"

Kelly watched , stepping back again, behind Hannibal and Stacie. She didn't have to think about it. Hannibal's eyes might reek of violence and anger, but he was at least sober and in control - two things her father wasn't.

"I _know _how to keep mine in line!" Daddy yelled. "Somethin' you need to learn!"

"Well, I hate to tell you this, but you failed miserably." The calm in Hannibal's voice was somehow incredibly comforting. "As I said, you're lucky Murdock got to him before I did. I –"

Hannibal didn't get a chance to finish what he was saying. A quick and hard fist caught him in the mouth. Kelly jumped back, far out of the way as Hannibal grabbed Daddy's collar and delivered a blow of his own and a hard shove, putting some distance between them again.

Kelly didn't stop backing up until her back hit the post of the pavilion. She suddenly realized her vision was blurred. Tears. She was crying. When had that started? What had Murdock done? What had Randy done? With a hand raised over her mouth, she watched the scene unfold in horror.

And then Stacie's arms were around her, pulling her in and holding her protectively. Huddled against her, Kelly stayed silent as the fight continued. No one _ever _stood up to Daddy, not even the police. There was no way of knowing what to do in a situation like this. Fighting back and having a prayer of winning had never happened before.

When she finally looked up again, Hannibal had Daddy on the ground with one knee on his chest and a forearm across his throat - pushing down harder anytime he struggled. Daddy was struggling wildly, but Hannibal was barely breathing hard.

"Let me make something very clear to you," Hannibal said with that same low, cold tone. "I don't know what your household was like when you ran it, but I've got a pretty good idea. You want to terrorize your family, that's your business and theirs. But you will _not _lift a finger against me and mine. And that goes for your son, too."

Something about that look that tone broke through her shock of seeing Daddy flat in the ground. The flat bluntness, the complete control and command. But Hannibal, like Murdock, was using that to defend her. He meant every word of that, just the same way Murdock meant what he said. And suddenly, she felt safer than she ever had in her entire life.

Hannibal made sure he got enough air to remain conscious, but it wasn't near enough to keep fighting. It was a delicate balance, and he held it perfectly. Finally, when the struggling slowed enough that he knew it would take several minutes for Daddy to regain his fighting spirit, he pulled away from him and stood, glaring down at him for a moment. But he had nothing more to say. Not to him. Instead, he turned to Kelly.

"Murdock had to go home," he said. "He's very sorry he won't be here to finish out the rest of the weekend. But he'll call you as soon as possible."

Return home? To the psych ward. What had happened? "Is he alright?"

Murdock couldn't be gone. He'd said he would be here, and it would take something big and very bad for him to break that promise. New fear was surfacing. Fear for Murdock and a more selfish fear of being left to deal with her father without his support.

"He's fine." Hannibal took a step closer and lowered his voice, setting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "But I would advise you to put an end to this reunion, and send everyone home."

She stared at him for a long moment, barely comprehending the words. Could she do that?

"Send everyone home, Kelly," Hannibal said quietly. "And I'll stay here with you until they leave. I think we've all had enough excitement for one weekend."

**1968**

Murdock was numb. Tear stained, covered in mud, soaked with sweat, he dragged his feet into the familiar hootch where he bunked up when he was in Nha Trang. The same hootch Alan was in. It didn't even occur to him until he stepped through the door that he should've prayed first that Alan would not be there.

"Fuck happened to you, flyboy?"

The voice was distant, far away. Just like his own body. Disjointed, disconnected. What had just happened? His world had just ended. Was this even real? How could he even begin to explain that? He couldn't. He never wanted to. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to know.

Just breathe. It was everything he could to breathe. Dropping onto the cot he used, Murdock put his head in his hands. The tears were coming again. Damn it, he'd been sure there were none left to cry. He turned and lay facedown, hiding them from Alan. He'd never understand, Murdock knew that.

"That good, huh?"

It might have actually been something akin to concern if it hadn't been so mocking. Murdock ignored him, trying to force the images, smells, fleeting joy and everlasting pain into some shape he could deal with, handle even. Deep breath, push the air in and out.

_Please __God,__ please__ make__ it __stop,__make __it__ go __away._

"Guess we bombed some gook village a few miles from here," Alan said. His voice was so casual, he might have been talking about the weather rather than the death of hundreds of people. "Got a bunch of fuckin' refugees hangin' around here now, gotta figure out what to do with 'em."

"Shut up, Alan."

A distant, semi-functioning part of Murdock realized that the flat, floating voice was his. Cai, Phuoc, the thoughts and images Alan's words brought had pain squeezing his chest so damn tight, he wasn't able to say more. _No__ more,__ God.__ I__ can't__ take__ it.__ Please,__ please, __just __make __it __stop._

No one was going to answer that prayer, he knew. Deep inside, at the center of that gnawing hole inside of him, feelings other than pain stirred. Flickers of anger and fury at the loss, the waste if it all. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as fiery hot anger spread over the icy cold that had gripped him the moment he'd hit that road block.

The sound of metal on metal was all that interrupted the silence for several long minutes. Alan was cleaning his gun. "Tell your fuckin' pilot friends they need to do a better job next time. Wipe out every one of those cock-sucking VC mother fuckers."

The sudden rush of fury took Murdock's breath away. He pushed himself up and swung to Alan, eyes blazing. "What the hell makes you think that everybody in that village was with the Viet Cong?"

Alan glanced up and snorted with laughter. "Who the fuck cares?" He returned his attention to the rifle in his lap. "Kill 'em all. Let the devil sort 'em out."

Murdock didn't even think before he reacted. Something inside of him simply snapped, and he let it. There was no attempt to control the anger and rage he had for the man in front of him, for the universe, for what he had lost. No, he hadn't lost anything. It was stolen from him.

Without thought, Murdock was off the bed, over to Alan, and his fist was in Alan's face. Startled, it took Alan a moment to respond. When he did, he shoved Murdock back a few steps as he stood. "Fuck is the matter with you?" he growled. "Don't tell me you're all full of sympathy for the fuckin' enemy."

"They _weren't_the enemy!" Murdock yelled back. "There were innocent people in that village!"

"So?"

"That wasn't right!"

Alan laughed mockingly. "It's a fuckin' war, Mark. Remember what we did to all those poor defenseless civilians in Hiroshima?"

Murdock stopped cold, his own words suddenly coming back to haunt him. _"That__ was__ a __bomb__ worth__ dropping."_ The guilt hit him all at once. How the hell could he have ever been so naïve?

"You got more sympathy for the damn gooks than you got for our own men who fuckin' get shot up out there," Alan accused. "The gooks and your goddamn helicopter. And as far as I'm concerned, they can both burn in hell."

Murdock's hand was suddenly on Alan's throat. "Shut your fucking mouth or I will kill you!"

Alan reacted with a fist that came across Murdock's jaw so hard, he was surprised he wasn't spitting out teeth. If he had been, it probably wouldn't have made much difference. He felt no pain. As he stumbled a step back, Alan landed another blow into his gut - that same punch he'd used since they were seven years old.

The memories came back all at once. Ice could numbness was gone, replaced by boiling hot rage. It felt sweet and somehow right. He didn't think – just let that thing buried deep inside of him out, let it take control. Blood pounding in his ears, his mind slipped from his body, leaving the pain of the blows far behind.

_Hey,__ Alan,__ Dad,__ thanks__ for__ teaching __me__ that __trick.__ Fuckers__…_

His thoughts were flashing at lightning speed and far behind the bloodlust that drove his actions. Hooking his leg behind Alan's, Murdock threw his shoulder into the much larger man, bringing him down to the floor. Once he was there, there was no stopping.

Snarled nonsense noises escaped Murdock as he pinned his brother underneath him with a strength that wasn't his. Alan pushed up, rolling him in a way that only someone with an extra 75 pounds or so of muscle could do. His blows were clumsy, disoriented by the dizziness of what was probably a concussion. Most likely the result of the fact that Murdock had a hold of his hair and was bashing his head onto the concrete floor. But the punches still landed.

For every blow Alan landed, Murdock countered. This wasn't the first time they had come to blows. But it was the first time Murdock could remember that he had truly, genuinely wanted to kill his brother with his own two hands. Twenty years of anger and fury, twenty years of memories and helplessly taking every blow and insult Alan had dished out to him, twenty years of hurt and rejection…

Alan was bigger, stronger and better trained. But he was fighting for his dinner and Murdock was fighting for his fucking life and everything that had been taken from it. Knees, hands, gouges, kicks, bites, every weapon he had, every maneuver he knew was aimed at Alan. Every ounce of him wanted Alan to feel just a fraction of the pain he had caused.

It was adrenaline that kept him in the fight. After several long minutes and a mouth and nose full of blood, that adrenaline was starting to fade. Alan was tiring too. Murdock could see it. The blows where coming further apart, their holds slipping, breath coming shallow and harsh. Murdock was crying; his cheeks were wet and he didn't care. He couldn't care.

"You don't know a god damned thing," he hissed through his teeth between labored breaths. "Don't say a fucking word about that god damned village. _Ever_!"

Alan pushed him off, and he nearly fell over backwards. His arms were heavy with fatigue, but still he tried to swing, to stop Alan from talking. He didn't make it in time.

"Lemme guess. That whore you keep runnin' off to see got family there?"

It was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, drawing deep hard breaths Murdock tried to gather his energy for a strike. But he was finally too tired to hit with his fist. This time, all he had was his words. "Whore," he repeated. "Like Mom?"

Alan didn't bother answering, just looked at Murdock as if to see where he was going with this.

"Dad was too busy drowning in his booze to keep her from wandering town, showing everyone what a joke of a man he was." Murdock pushed himself up and staggered to his feet, backing away. "How about that, Alan? If dear old Dad had been a fucking man you wouldn't have me to deal with."

"Least I have a father," Alan growled back, wiping the blood from his mouth.

"Yeah, you do. And I count it a blessing he's not mine." Murdock paused for just a moment. "You're just like him, you know. Always looking for some way to prove how much of a man you are, how tough you are. Because just like him, deep down inside you know your _nothing_. Just the worthless, good-for-nothing kid of the town drunk and the crazy woman. I don't know who my father is, but at least I got a chance that _one_ of my parents wasn't a complete fuck up. And maybe that's why I got a prayer of making something out of my life and you don't."

Alan was exhausted. He didn't bother getting up off the floor. How long had they been rolling around down there, anyway? The tiredness in Murdock's arms and shoulders and back and, hell, everything, made it feel like forever. But he knew for certain it had been too long when Alan didn't even try to get up.

"No matter how much booze you drink, drugs you take, people you kill, women you fuck, you know, Alan. You _know_. You will never be worth a goddamn thing. All you have in your pathetic, miserable life is your crazy, pussy brother. Who has beaten you in every way that matters. So before you say another word, _Sergeant_," Murdock spat Alan's rank as if it was a curse word, "you better damn well remember that you're addressing a superior."

"I ain't got a brother," Alan hissed.

Looking down at the bigger man on the ground, Murdock felt nothing. That was a first. "Then you've got nothing and you never will."

That was the cold hard truth - one that Murdock had been fighting for years. That last thread that had held him tied to Earth was unraveling. He should feel something about that. But in that moment there was nothing, just emptiness.

"I never had a brother. You're just some bastard kid who lived in my house and mooched off my dad 'til you finally figured out you didn't belong there."

"Dad never gave a shit about you either," Murdock said coldly. "Beating the hell out of you was his way of feeling like a big man. Now that he can't do that, you're already dead to him."

He turned towards the door, and wasn't surprised when Alan didn't stop him. With his hand on the doorknob, he paused and turned back. There was just one more thing that needed to be said. Then he was done. As far as he was concerned, he never needed to cross paths with Alan again, as long as either of them lived.

"And just so you know," Murdock growled. "If you ever say one word about her again, I'll see you dead for real."

With that promise, Murdock spared one more cold look at the only thing he had left in the world. Then he turned and left it, bleeding, on the floor.


	33. Epilogue

****We are getting close to the end, hope you've enjoyed it. Just to let you know the next book will post a couple days under sss979's name.****

**EPILOGUE**

It was an exceptionally long process just to get to see Murdock. First, he was not accepting visitors. She waited. Then she went to a nearby motel, came in the next morning, and waited again. It was midway through the second day when they finally realized that she was absolutely not going away until she got to see him. She might have still been sitting there, stonewalled, if not for the pity of one of the nurses at the station who'd slipped her into the room with a promise to be back in five minutes.

Murdock didn't look at her. Wrapped in a straightjacket and staring at the wall, he didn't look at anything. His expression was blank, eyes glassed over, breathing slow and shallow as he sat still in the chair he'd apparently been placed in. For a moment, he didn't even look real – more like a mannequin. Or an empty shell.

Instinctively, she spoke in that low, quiet voice she used with the hurt animals she saw on a daily basis in her practice. "Murdock?"

The fact that she had compared him to an animal hit her as soon as his name was out of her mouth. He was a man - a man who had risked it all for her. She had seen with her own eyes what he had done to Randy, but she refused to think about that; to equate that level of violence to the man she loved and knew to be incredibly gentle was simply unthinkable. What could drive him to that?

She knew that answer. It was her. He had seen what Randy was, how much he had taken from her and hurt her. That was something he'd been driven to fight for. He was willing to kill to keep her safe - something she couldn't do for herself.

Looking at him now, restrained and hollow-eyed, she was at a loss. Should she thank him? Talk to him? Touch him? Be afraid of him? No, he would never hurt her. She knew that. If she knew one thing in life, that was it.

"Murdock, can you hear me?"

_Please,_ she prayed silently, _please __let __him __be __in__ there._

But he was staring, unmoving. She had no way of knowing if he did hear her. He remained silent. The only movement at all was a slow blink - eyes shut, then open again, out of focus on the wall in front of him. But if there was even a one in a million chance that he could hear her, then she owed it to him to keep talking, to let him know.

Taking a small step closer, she continued quietly. "I tried to see you earlier, but…" She hesitated, there was no use stating the obvious. Biting her lip she started again. "Hannibal said you would call me when you were ready, but I wanted you see you. To let you know."

There was nothing. No attempt to look at her, no attempt to speak. His breathing didn't chance, he didn't move at all. The only response at all was another slow blink of his eyes. God it hurt to see him like this. It was so wrong.

"I told Daddy and Randy to leave and never come back." Actually it had been a lot more than that. She had been forced to make a choice and it had been startlingly easy to make. Hannibal had stayed long enough to make sure they left. He'd offered a phone number in case they came back. He'd even offered her a place to stay in LA if she needed it. She'd never had anyone with so little to gain from helping her care that much.

Her eyes went to Murdock again, hoping to see a sign, a hint of response. But there was nothing. More than once, she had asked him why he was in the VA. He didn't belong here. He wasn't crazy so much as not exactly normal. Was this really him? Staring at the wall and drooling? Or was it what she pushed him to?

How many medications was he on? He hadn't taken any when he was with her. She realized that now, in retrospect, but she had been so wrapped up in her own worries, she hadn't even thought about it then. She had studied pharmacology. She understood how medications affected the body and what stopping them would do. Still, it had never even occurred to her what he was doing for her. All she had cared about was what her family thought. God, what was wrong with her? Stupid - so very stupid.

"I just wanted to thank you and let you know," she whispered. "I get it now."

No response. She wasn't expecting one anymore. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she forced back the tears. She would not cry in front of him; he didn't need that.

"I didn't even have to ask," she whispered.

Another slow blink. Very slowly, gently, she put her hand on his shoulder. She half expected him to jump. When he did nothing, she put her hand on the side of his face. He wasn't looking at her and even if he had been, she doubted he would see her.

"I'm so sorry Murdock."

Nothing, just emptiness. Not knowing why, she kissed his forehead tenderly. Then, taking a deep, steadying breath, she let her hand drop and slowly stepped away.

"I'll be back, okay?"

It wasn't enough, but it was all she had to offer for him.

She was almost to the door when she heard him - just the faintest sound in the eerie stillness of the room. Eyes still staring into nowhere, he didn't look at her as he whispered a halting, "I love you."

She turned towards that sound, for a second not sure if she had just imagined it. But there was nothing in her imagination that could have come up with that haunting whisper. He was in there, and he still loved her. She had to remember to breathe.

"I love you, too."

There was so much more that needed to be said, but it just didn't matter right now. All that mattered was him and keeping him safe, the way he had protected her. Without thought, she was standing next to him again, touching his face. It took several shaking breaths before she trusted herself to speak.

"Please don't leave me," she whispered.

She had no right to ask that of him. She had no right to ask anything of him. But she needed him and there was no stopping the words. He didn't speak again. Perfectly silent and perfectly still, the only response she got was a very shallow sigh as he slowly closed his eyes to the empty world around him.


End file.
